


Let Me Fall

by Les_Oubliettes



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-12
Updated: 2013-06-17
Packaged: 2017-12-08 06:01:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 70,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/757911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Les_Oubliettes/pseuds/Les_Oubliettes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Of all the lessons Blaine was supposed to have learned, 'be careful who you fall in love with' was on a list that he had no trouble following. Things changed, however, when Blaine met Kurt Hummel. Mafia!Klaine,</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a work that has already been posted on both ff.net and s&c, if you would prefer reading it there.

The lesson had been hammered into his head for as long as he could remember. His father, sitting behind his desk, a tall, slight man made imposing by the hardness in his eyes and the black leather of the wingback of his chair. "The thing to keep in mind about our business, son, is you must be careful about who you love and who you choose to marry."

When his great uncle died and his father and brother took over, Blaine was caught by the wrong people when he was leaving a dance with his date, Jason. To say the two fifteen year olds had the shit kicked out of them would have been an understatement. Six months later, after the scars had begun to fade, the fractures had healed, and hair (though tamed underneath gel) had grown back, he found himself in his father's—no, in Cooper's office—his brother's taller frame and broader shoulders filling the wingback chair. "Blaine, I know our father has mentioned this before, but in light of what happened, I thought a refresher would be useful."

"Coop?"

"You must be careful who you love, who you fuck, and who you care for, especially if your actions make it public knowledge."

Blaine's head dropped at the jab at his sexuality in Cooper's words.

"That is not what I meant, B." He shifted in the chair, leaning towards Blaine's place across the desk. "I've known you were gay probably longer than you have. It doesn't change anything, squirt. What I mean is that due to the nature of our business, the enemies that we make, anyone you care for will be in danger at any point simply because hurting him will be a way of hurting you and therefore hurting us. You need to be able to protect him or be willing to let him go or lose him in order to keep us safe. Nothing before us, Blaine. Nothing."

"Yes, sir." He met his brother's eyes evenly. It wasn't like he didn't know that. Just another lesson constantly instilled in his brain. Nothing before family, nothing before the business. But hearing it laid out so plainly, that just by loving someone he would be killing them was painful.

"Blaine.."

"Sorry, Coop."

"I know it sucks sometimes," drew a wry laugh from the brothers, "And maybe when you find him we will be in a better position, one that will be safer for you both."

"How bad is it, Coop?"

It was bad enough to limit Blaine to only casual hookups for nearly a decade, but good enough that he wasn't needed constantly, giving him time to earn a degree in piano performance and establish himself on the local scene as a jazz pianist of worth, sought after by the big names when they came to town and larger hotels that wanted to keep him as their pet piano player.

It was comfortable enough that the sixth time he watched one man, tall, slim, pale if you judged from the skin of his hands as he tugged off his gloves and the creaminess of the column of his neck as he unwound his scarf at the doorway, enter one of the piano bars he frequented and take a seat at the bar, he decided he was going to let loose a little. He put on a show, throwing himself into the performance, singing the next piece, his tenor a bit harsher than the original alto's but no less seductive.

He finished his set, alternating between charts with vocals and without (he didn't normally sing when he had a gig at this location and he did want to be invited back) and forced himself to not run over to the man miraculously still at the bar (it had been a while, sue him). A quick stop to make sure his impromptu singing hadn't revoked his invitation, and then the bar. The bartender, one of theirs although the owner didn't know, slid his usual drink over to him as he passed.

Cool glass pressed to his bottom lip he winked at the pale man he caught watching him. Blaine saw blue eyes cloud over with embarrassment before the man turned away, blushing at being noticed. Leaning against the bar, he took the opportunity to survey the man. Jeans that were obviously well fitted hugged tight across hips, faded in just the right places, gray and white checked shirt showing where the darker gray vest and lighter gray waistcoat pulled up at his sides and stretched tantalizingly across broad shoulders, black coat draped neatly across crossed legs.

Clearing his throat lightly and reaching out to touch the man's shoulder, "Is this seat taken?" He jerked slightly under Blaine's fingertips, spinning in his seat as his hand flew up to clutch at his chest. "Oh. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to startle you."

"It's..it's okay. No harm, and my heart still works."

"It is always good to have confirmation of that. May I?" He gestured to the empty seat.

"Oh. Of course." The man swiveled to face the bar, staring at nothing and fiddling with his napkin.

Setting his glass down, Blaine extended his hand as he sat, pulling the man's attention back to him. "I'm Blaine."

"Kurt."

"Did you enjoy the show?"

"I did. Especially your cover of "Teach Me Tonight." It might be a little creepy, but I have been to a number of your gigs."

"No less creepy than my knowing you have. Six shows, by my count, at four different clubs." You always sit at the bar, angled to see the piano and the door, right leg crossed over left, dress better than most everyone I know, and order a clear drink so probably a gin and tonic. But he didn't say that out loud, this wasn't work and he didn't want to scare the man—Kurt—away so quickly.

"That..that does sound creepy. I should probably…" Legs uncrossed gracefully and jacket and scarf were in his hand before Blaine reached out again to stop him from leaving.

"Relax, I'm not going to bite. I take it as a compliment that your bar hopping habits match up so perfectly with my work. It means I get to see you. Now sit back down and let me buy you another…?" He signaled the bartender as Kurt resettled himself.

"Vodka and tonic, please." Blaine nodded at the bartender in confirmation and settled himself into his seat.

"So, Kurt. Tell me about yourself."

"I'm not so sure…"

It took Blaine a few drinks and a bit of puppy eyes but he got the basics: Kurt, 26, works at a design house (he refused to say which one), new to the city, dreams of Broadway and his own line, has a tiny apartment he shares with a cat, the size of a small dog, Laurence. He, in turn, shared only as much as Kurt needed to know: Blaine, 24 but his birthday would be in a month, classically trained jazz pianist and sometimes singer, lives in an apartment owned by his family, no animals though he was thinking about a dog, native to the city.

A couple hours later, when Kurt begged off, "I'm sorry. I have to work in the morning and my boss will kill me if I am late", Blaine offered to see him home. "Oh, I couldn't impose. I'll just catch a cab."

"I'll wait with you." Blaine raised his hand, lifting a finger to rest against Kurt's lips, pink and soft and parted slightly, warm breath hitting Blaine's outstretched finger. "I would like to wait with you, if that is okay with you."

Kurt nodded slowly, dragging his lips against the cool finger briefly before Blaine pulled his hand back into his own personal space as Kurt gathered his jacket and scarf again.

"Mike, put it on my tab."

"Blaine, no. I can…"

He covered the taller man's hand where it rested on the bar top as he stood with his own, squeezing lightly. "You can. I said I would buy you a drink. And they owe me. Tell you what. You can buy next time?"

Kurt visibly relaxed before stiffening again. "Next time." His voice was small and high, squeaking out in contrast to the confident way he slid his jacket back on and deftly twirled his scarf back around his neck.

"Next time. I enjoyed talking to you. A lot. And I think you would have politely excused yourself if you had not enjoyed talking to me." A nod met his words as he stood himself. "Wait for me here. I'm going to have Puck call you a cab and grab my stuff and then we can wait outside."

Kurt nodded again, absent-mindedly tugging his phone out of his pocket and obviously processing something. Blaine wondered what. He hadn't noticed a family ring or bracelet, so he probably (hopefully) wasn't in the business. They'd hook up a few times, go their own ways, and no one would be hurt. Just like he was supposed to.

It was all of a minute that Blaine was gone from Kurt's side, retrieving his things from behind the bar and telling Puck to call a cab, resuming his place before they threaded their way through the club. The pair wove through the tables, Kurt's hand, encircled the crook of Blaine's elbow so they weren't separated, dropped back to his side as they cleared the throng.

The brushing of their arms as they walked outside sent spikes of awareness through Blaine. The momentary, accidental touch of their hands as they both reached for the door a shock both felt, if the flush that spread across Kurt's face was any indication.

"Thank you for the drinks." Kurt met Blaine's eyes, gaze flickering down to Blaine's lips and back up, right hand holding his left, thumb stroking across the thumb before Blaine caught it between his own.

"Thank you for the conversation." The yellow in the corner of his eye told him the taxi was there, the number told him it was one of theirs, but he didn't want to say goodbye yet.

"Taxi's here."

"Yes. You should go, since you said you have work."

"I do." They both moved closer to each other, barely aware of the impatient taxi driver waiting on them.

"Will I see you again?" Head cocked to the side, puppy-eyes starting to come through as Blaine looked up at the entrancing man before him.

"I owe you a drink. I'll be at your gig on Thursday."

His smile interrupting the puppy-eyes, Blaine shook his head and looked down before answering. "I did say that, didn't I?"

"You did. I think the driver…"

"Of course." Blaine leaned up, moving in slowly to give Kurt a chance to move away, kissing his cheek sweetly when Kurt stayed still, leaning into the touch as Blaine replaced his lips with his hand, stroking across Kurt's cheekbone. Kurt's eyes darkened as he bit his bottom lip.

Stepping around him, Blaine opened the door to the cab, closing it after Kurt had settled himself, eyes meeting once more before Kurt leaned forward to give the cabbie directions.

The rest of the week passed slowly, Blaine lost adrift in thoughts of Kurt, punctuated only by a gig at a stuffy hotel and helping Cooper go over inventory, finances, and strategy, the former entertaining as they checked over weapons and ammo in the various safe houses and stores to the background of Disney movies (don't knock gun polishing while singing Aladdin until you try it). Finances were never the most interesting thing, and Rachel's whining about needing to diversify their investments (even though they had a hand in just about everything already and were comfortable).

The strategy meeting was Thursday afternoon after a night spent pouring over the intel that had been gathered, searching for trends and possible problems. The meeting itself consisted of Cooper's advisors, the top of the business, discussing where they should be going, what needed robbing, and what it was safe to start selling: normal white collar organized crime.

The most pressing matter, of course, was what to do about the so-called Spadarys, the family that had run the Colombo Family out of town a few years prior. The Spadarys were uppity, thinking their strict hierarchy was best and looking to grow their holdings while the other four of the five families were settling in to what they had. Not that Blaine or the others born into the life didn't like a good fight, but Blaine was looking forward to having a life outside of crime (maybe with someone) and the Spadarys would not settle down. From what meetings with the other families and talks with their own had told him, Sebastian, the leader of the Spadarys had ordered attacks (through his second, one Santana Lopez) on the Gambinos.

"I have news about our favorite up-and-coming pain in the ass. Our fences say he has people scoping out buyers for a lost Picasso." Blaine was pulled out of his examination of a report of their holdings by Jesse's words, the entire room freezing before erupting into sound, all of the capos seeking to say their opinions at once. On his right, at the head of the table, silence fell at Cooper's raised hand. "What lost Picasso?"

"Remember the theft from the Musée d'Art Moderne in Paris?"

Brittney spoke from her place in the corner—"2010, thief gets away with five masterpieces, Picasso is trashed and the container is emptied before it can be searched, presumed destroyed." She may get some things mixed up, but her intelligence for remembering things was unparalleled.

"That Picasso. He thinks he has a painting that was declared destroyed and he is trying to move it?" Cooper was calm, collected, blue eyes nailing Jesse to his seat.

"Which fence told you?"

"Will. He came to me after he was visited by a few plain clothed suits who were a little too interested." Blaine watched Cooper's face, saw the twinge of a tightened jaw and the twitch of his eyes over to Blaine and back. Blaine inclined his head at the unspoken information. Plain clothed suits were always running around, but with the new peace the families and the suits let the other be. Until there was a Picasso that shouldn't exist was about to move.

"Jesse, bring Will in. Take him to the Atherton house and talk to him. Just talk. Blaine, you go too, then report back to me. I want extra ears on Smythe's activity and eyes looking combing through his and his second's pasts."

"Are you going to alert the others?" Quinn, normally quiet, spoke up from her seat at the end of the table.

"Not yet. Let's see what Will has to say. Quinn, you can put together the groups of eyes and ears, give me a list by the end of the day." The room was thrumming, the prospects of a fight, the first real one since the Spadarys came in, was exciting.

"Anything else?"

Unsurprisingly, Rachel's hand shot into the air before Cooper had finished. "Yes, Ms. Berry?"

"I was wondering, in light of this new situation, if you were going to consider changing your stance on moving…"

"Ms. Berry, that isn't a question for the group right now. I will revisit it tomorrow after going over Blaine's and Jesse's reports. Now, if everyone will excuse Blaine and I, we have a meeting of our own to attend." They didn't have another meeting. The Five weren't meeting until Saturday, but Cooper obviously wanted to talk to Blaine on his own, without the others, before deciding a course of action and presenting a united front to their capos and their father.

The pair was silent as they ducked into the supply room and used the staircase concealed behind a false panel, moving silently except for the soft shh of breath and footsteps on the concrete, not speaking again until reaching the privacy of Cooper's office.

"Talk to me, Blaine." Cooper continued to the bar, pulling out two glasses and a bottle of scotch, facing away from his brother.

Blaine gathered his thoughts, watching his brother fix their drinks, shrugging out of his jacket before taking as seat as Cooper handed him his glass. He swirled the amber liquid, watching it cling to the border of the glass, having already come to his evaluation and not knowing how he felt about it. "Unless Smythe and Lopez are smarter than we give them credit for, we are about to lose the Spadarys."

"That's what I was afraid you were going to say." Cooper winced slightly as a too-large sip burned the back of his throat. "I do not understand how anyone as idiotic as Smythe managed to topple Colombo."

"We both know that at the end Colombo was easy pickings. And the Five thought new blood might clear out the old rivalries and we could settle down and make our money."

"The Five were wrong."

"We knew that. Even before he started asking for buyers and attracting attention."

"What do you think we should do? If they are going to fall, there's going to be an imbalance again, probably another war. Can we survive that?"

"Probably. We're a little rusty, but we can kick up training and security. Our other options are to prop them up or pray no one else wants another bloodbath."

"B, always the one to think about helping people."

"It wouldn't be about helping them. It would be about helping us avoid unnecessary loss of lives and even more attention from the suits. I presume you will be talking to Father about this before the meeting?"

"Of course. He's coming for dinner tomorrow night and we can talk after I read the reports about Will. You might need to assign recon as needed."

Blaine nodded before sipping his drink, then changed his mind and killed the glass in one burning gulp.

"I have to go. Gig tonight." Miraculously, despite the alcohol on an empty stomach and the stress, Blaine didn't sway on his feet, head oddly clear.

"I don't know why you bother with those gigs. They don't do anything. You don't need the money and your time would be better served here." Blaine kept his clenched fist behind his back, the tension of the white-knuckled fist hidden from his brother's view.

"You are starting to sound like Father, Cooper. He said he didn't mind as long as I came to all the meetings and stayed on our turf. I have. I use Mom's maiden name when I perform, I stay on our turf. When I get invited into another family's I ask permission first, you know that. I bother with them because I like music, unlike watching the light fade from someone's eyes after a hit."

"And what about this boy? Kurt?"

"He's no one."

"He has been to six of your shows and will be there tonight. He is not no one."

Fist clenched hard, nails biting into the tender skin of his palm as he recited, annoyance bleeding into his voice. "Kurt, 26, new to the city, works in a design house, has his own apartment and is a cat person. Judging from the light circle of blue around his irises, he wears contacts. He sits at the bar, angled to see the door, so he is still wary, although he hides it well. Better dressed than you could dream of being, probably stands a chance at his own line and used to be involved in musical theater in high school. All of which and possibly more you already know because you won't trust me to not fuck something up." His voice cut through the silence, crescendoing through the last few words, voice tight with the hurt that his brother watched him still. It was fine when he was underage and unproven. Now it was just insulting.

"You know that I trust you. You wouldn't be my second if I thought I couldn't trust you. But I worry about you. Especially right now, with Smythe being a dickwad."

"There have been no threats, implicit or otherwise. All of my gigs in the near future are on our turf. Let me have one unsupervised fling. He'll be gone in a month, just like the rest. No attachments. I know the rules and my duties to the family."

"Go, then. I'll call off the tail. Don't do anything stupid. We can't have you dead or compromised." His eyes closed, breathing deeply to re-center himself, before looking up. Blaine met his brother's eyes, icy blue like their father's, and nodded, shutting the door to the concealed staircase behind him, staying hidden until he left the building, and trotting down the stairs to the subway to make it back to his apartment to change before his gig that night.


	2. Part 2

"His" apartment.

Ha.

It, and the shop it sat above, was an old safe house of the family's, refurbished and security enhanced when Blaine declared that since the situation had calmed down, he needed a place that was his, where he could have plants and groceries and wouldn't have to worry about business.

Cooper hadn't been thrilled—he wanted his second to stay in the family's house, where security was best and he would be protected (if need be) and would be there in a crisis (knock on wood, but Cooper was a practical Capo).

After a month of heated debates and grudging compromises with some old-fashioned sibling rivalry and power dynamics inherent to their business, Cooper allowed Blaine to choose one of the safe houses as long as Blaine would consent to the cameras being monitored, never bring work home with him, and to be careful who he invited in.

Blaine did, brows furrowed, jaw clenched, and knuckles white at not being trusted. Cooper had nearly raised him, after all. He knew the rules well enough to be chosen as Coop's second. He was smart and good at what he did. All he wanted was some space to himself.

The apartment was little, old, and perfect for him. His one neighbor was an old man with a cat who smoked too much and kept to himself, having already passed whatever background check and signed whatever gag rule necessary to live next to the family.

Still, Cooper didn't approve (Coop being fonder of grander things than apartments above stores), but he had to keep reminding himself it wasn't Cooper's life.

And even living in separate places, it wasn't like Blaine didn't see Cooper nearly every day and essentially live at the family's house.

But when he was home, he could dance around the living room without fear of someone who answered to him walking in and losing respect. He could practice his piano (the small upright tucked into the corner of the office) without interrupting a meeting for a deal on the wrong side of the law.

He could be himself and it was okay.

The trip didn't take any longer than usual, even if Blaine was floating, muscle memory and reflexes honed to be quick keeping him alive as he nearly walked into a taxi. He couldn't figure out what would have possessed Smythe to make such a foolish move. Had he been dropped on his head as a child? Or perhaps more recently? Moving such a sensitive piece, openly talking about it to a fence known to talk, that was asking for the FBI to come knocking down doors and disturbing the peace they were trying to maintain.

Shaking himself out of his work mindset and realizing he was standing in the middle of his living room, staring blindly at the wall, he started a shower, pulling out the clothes he would wear for his gig before getting in and washing the layers of formality off his skin, leaving the spicy clean scent of his body wash. Gel washed cleanly out of his hair, tensions flowing away with the suds down the drain.

Too soon the water was cooling; Blaine forced himself to leave the comforting warmth of the shower for the rest of the bathroom, goose-bumps rising when his heated skin was hit by air far too chilled for the amount of steam. Dry and towel wrapped around his waist, he brushed his teeth quickly, combed the slightest bit of product into his hair to help tame the mass of curls. Deciding against shaving (again) for time's sake, he sprayed on some cologne and opened the bathroom door, shivering slightly.

Clothes—black slacks with a dark purple pinstripe, gray dress shirt covering his undershirt, purple vest, and a purple bow tie—warmed him up, the layers insulating against the heat. Black and purple socked feet slid into black shoes dressy enough to perform in but comfortable enough to walk in. Blaine grabbed his bag from its place by the piano, adding his phone and keys before heading to the gig and, hopefully, Kurt.

Two songs into his set, Blaine looked up to see Kurt at the bar, as near to his 'normal' spot as could be, drink resting idly on his crossed leg as he watched Blaine play. Throwing him a quick grin, getting a nod and a raised glass as toast, Blaine focused on his music again. The rest of that half of his set was easy, technically. He had played this music more times than he cared to admit.

Keeping the grin off his face at knowing someone (male, gay, his age, attractive) had come to see him play and was interested in him, was a completely different matter. Not for the first time, Blaine was grateful for the less-than-expert audience that wouldn't notice that he was relying on muscle memory and simple memorized words, holding back the shit-eating grin was taking up almost all of his focus. He'd keep his happiness to himself. At least until he had…talked…to Kurt more. Gotten to…know him better. Something like that.

He gets the signal that he is free to take a break a few songs later, a few seconds after that he is approaching Kurt's place at the bar, water bottle in hand.

"Fancy seeing you here." Kurt smirked at him, setting his empty glass on its napkin before rising to greet Blaine with…a kiss on his cheek? Blaine felt his cheeks heat as soft lips brushed against his scruff.

"I seem to remember a handsome stranger promised me a drink?"

"Oh. Of course. What would you...?" He was visibly scrambling, hands gesturing wildly to flag down the bartender.

Blaine reached out with his free hand to stop the waving, desperately hoping that he felt the same shot of electricity. "Kurt, relax. I have my water until I'm done." Blaine brandished the bottle before sitting next to Kurt, brushing their knees together and watching Kurt seem to lean into the brief touch. "No drinking on the job."

"No drunken serenades?"

"Not for these customers. Buy me dinner first and I'll see what I can do."

"You really serenade people when drunk?"

"It has happened before. Generally after telling embarrassing stories and before making out with girls."

"I take it girls are not your normal make out partners?"

"Not unless I'm stupendously drunk, which doesn't happen often."

Glancing down, Kurt muttered something that sounded like "Good to know."

"Did you say something?"

"What? Oh. No. I'm just talking to myself. It's been a long week and my brain may be going a little insane."

"Going?"

"Gone. And is that any way to speak to someone who is buying your drinks? I might slip something in one."

"Who says you need to?" He looked at Kurt through lowered lashes in time to see that Kurt's lip had been pulled between his teeth, cheeks flushing, and one hand stroking across the thumb of the other as he looked away from Blaine. "Anyway, I have to go do the second half of the set and then I am all yours, insane-man."

"Don't let me keep you from your adoring fans." Blaine squeezed Kurt's hands, still clasped over his knee before returning to his piano, swigging from his water bottle as he went. "Did everybody miss me?"

The second half of the set was a blur as Blaine tried to figure out plans to get Kurt into his bed that night (Cooper's rules about no visitors that hadn't been cleared could go fuck themselves with a rusty spork). If he wanted it to only be a one night thing, then getting him drunk enough followed by some dancing should do it.

But…

Blaine wasn't sure he wanted a one night stand.

Logically, he had just met this entrancing man. He didn't know anything about him, apart from what training had taught him to look for and what Kurt had shared.

But…there was something about this man that had something inside him chanting 'You don't need to look anymore. This one is forever.'

Which was completely unlike him.

He didn't do relationships for many reasons, the business being the foremost. How do you explain to someone that you are third in command of one of the most infamous crime families in New York and that by being involved with you, by loving you, he is a target? It wasn't as if you couldn't be an Anderson-Genovese with a family. Rachel had a beau, Quinn and Puck were on and off, and Brittney had someone she never talked about with him but he was pretty sure existed.

But none of them was blood relatives to the Boss and all were fourth command and lower. If someone would be targeted, someone whose being hurt would hurt the family, it would be someone related to his father, leaving anyone Blaine or Cooper chose at risk.

And yet… He didn't want to put anyone at risk. As long as they were careful, and he was careful to not let too much slip… There hadn't been any hits against them in a while. The worst thing that was shaping up was the Spadary fiasco. And if Cooper was able to smooth that over before the suits came in…

He'd just see where it went, then. For tonight, he would be content to admire the contrast of moon-pale skin against the deep ocean of the sheets on his bed.

True to his word, Kurt was waiting for him at the bar, glaring at anyone who tried to take the seat next to him and nursing his drink, an untouched Manhattan sitting next to him. "I took the liberty of ordering you what you got last time."

Blaine hummed contentedly before sipping, dropping into the empty seat. "Yes. Forget what I said before. You are brilliant."

"You, sir, seem to have a very changeable opinion of me."

"You, sir, seem to be changeable in general."

"Just because I say I've had a long week and then remember…" He stopped when Blaine covered his hand on the counter, glancing down to their hands and back up at Blaine.

"I am sorry I said anything. I was only teasing. Why don't you tell me about this hellish week of yours?" Their hands separated as Kurt animatedly described hell-bent bosses and clients who shouldn't have a say in fashion, but their knees brushed together once…twice…staying connected the third time, a conduit for the sparks of heat and electricity to flow between them.

As they finished their drinks and ordered another round, Blaine slid his leg between Kurt's now uncrossed legs, hooking his calf behind the other man's. A slight pull had Kurt leaning in closer, the space between them closing. Sitting close together, laughing and talking about everything (literally, their conversation went from Kurt's work to Blaine's as a pianist to music to high school and to their shared love of coffee and iced versus hot), Blaine had to stop himself from wondering if everyone felt this, or if this was special, this ease with which he found himself talking to a near-stranger.

He was so comfortable, in fact, that multiple times he had to stop himself from telling Kurt how he and his brother did weapons inventory and cleaning while dancing and parroting Disney movies, because while fraternal bonding over Disney could pass as normal, weapons inventory could not. He wondered if Kurt, blue eyes bright with enthusiasm as they debated which run of Phantom of the Opera was better and if Love Never Dies was really necessary, was having the same problem.

Their drinks empty, both flushed from the alcohol and proximity, the conversation ends abruptly as Kurt's eyes flick down to Blaine's mouth and back up, words dying on his lips as Blaine registered the movement. "Suddenly, I'm famished. Can I buy you dinner? Maybe we can be all tourist-y and get hot dogs?"

"Well…I wouldn't want to spill.." Blaine drops his smile, the pout exaggerated. "Put the puppy away. We can sit and eat, then we will both be happy. And this is my night to pay."

"Nooo." Blaine pushed playfully against Kurt's knee. "I said you owed me drinks. Dinner is not the same thing as drinks."

"Mhm. And I am calling paying for dinner too."

"Don't you have work tomorrow?"

Kurt leaned in closer, crooking his finger to indicate Blaine should do the same. "Don't tell anyone, but I am currently at home with a terrible cold and I will probably be out until Monday."

"Scandalous! An upstanding, hard-working man like you playing hooky?"

"Mmm. Yes. Who knows? I might be stuck in bed anyway." Blaine blinked at Kurt, brain fumbling to process this helpful turn of event, skidding to a halt as Kurt closed the distance, one hand high on Blaine's thigh, the other cupping the back of his neck as mouths angled together, lips moving lazily.

Blaine gasped as Kurt took his bottom lip between his own before Kurt seized the opportunity, tongue sliding smoothly in, coaxing Blaine's to twist, tasting each other. Blaine could feel his eyes, already closed, rolling into the back of his head; Kurt tasted like a dream and kissed like sin, the burn of the vodka and the taste of Kurt combined could probably become addictive. It was unfair that anyone could be so skilled with his tongue, and Blaine knew he could hold his own when it came to kissing.

They pulled back at the same time. "Wow. Um. So. I'm gonna go get my bag and then we'll grab dinner? Then figure it out from there?" Kurt nodded quickly, lower lip again caught and worried by his teeth.

Before he convinced himself he could get into his apartment without his keys in order to re-attach himself to Kurt's divine lips he made his way to the employee-only area to grab his bag and think up a strategy. There was a food cart not too far from his apartment or their current location, then they could meander to the park to eat. Then…hopefully to his apartment. Or dancing. But hopefully they would end the night in Blaine's bed.

Plan sketched out in his head, Blaine returned to Kurt, who was on the phone, a smile breaking out when their eyes met. "…find. Of course, Blackbird. You too." Phone slid neatly back into his pocket as he stood, tugging his coat on. "All set? I already paid so you can't."

"Aren't you clever?" Blaine patted the bag hanging from his shoulder. "Shall we?"

Kurt tucked his hand into the crook of Blaine's proffered elbow. "We shall."

Everything was set in Blaine's head. Dinner. Dancing. Apartment. "Do you mind walking? I know of a good place and it's not far."

"Lead away." They fell into step and conversation, Kurt occasionally pulling free of Blaine's arm to gesture or leaning his head against Blaine's shoulder as they walked. Everything was going to plan.

Until it wasn't.

The food cart was in sight, lit up by the street lamps. They were waiting at a crosswalk for their turn when Kurt turned to face him, cold arms sliding under his jacket to rest against the small of his back, fiddling with his belt loops.

Blaine looked up at Kurt, eyebrows raised in question, then in surprise when, for the second time that night, Kurt leaned down, his lips warm, soft, and dry against Blaine's, both sighing at the contact. Needing more, Blaine turned his head to deepen the kiss.

A quick swipe at Kurt's bottom lip and Kurt opened his mouth, allowing Blaine to taste, flicking over the roof of his mouth, tasting the addictive heat of the lingering vodka and soda before twisting around Kurt's tongue and drawing it back into his own mouth.

They stepped closer, one of Kurt's hands easing its way across his waist and working its way up, smoothing over Blaine's stomach, chest, neck before fisting in the curls at the base of his neck pulling lightly before threading deeper to scritch at his scalp. Thankfully his moan was swallowed in the kiss.

Kurt pulled back, Blaine reluctantly relinquishing his hold on Kurt's tongue when Kurt pulled. "I am suddenly no longer hungry."

"That's um…fine. What would you like to...?"

"Is your apartment nearby?"

"Yes. You want to?"

"Yes."

Blaine stared for a minute. "Okay."

He hadn't been lying. His apartment was very close, down two blocks and around the corner. Sooner than his brain could process anything other than the feel of Kurt's lips, hot against his skin, tongue a wet fire as it traced shapes under his ear, their place in front of Blaine's door and keys waiting for use forgotten.

Blaine had never felt so enveloped in simply kissing: it wasn't the fact that Kurt was taller than him. He was under no illusions that such a feat was difficult.

But there was something about Kurt, the collected passion and confidence in the pull of his teeth and lips and the play of his tongue against Blaine's, the taste of his mouth and skin that was more than the burn of vodka and the bitter of moisturizer. But there was something frantically vying for his attention at the back of his mind and a corner of his heart, something both familiar and new.

He'd have to ask Kurt what mouthwash he used.

The loud cough of the resident of 1A, who shared a landing with him, startled them both out of their kiss.

"Sorry. We'll be out of your way as soon as I can find my…" He reached for his bag, patting the normal pocket. His keys were… Kurt, with bee-stung lips and color high across his cheeks, eyes shining lifted his hand, Blaine's keychain dangling from a long finger. "How did you?"

"Magic. Just open the door so we can be out of the way."

Keys snatched from Kurt, a click of the lock before a rattle as Blaine tossed the wayward keys into their bowl, before he spun around, tugging Kurt inside. A glare without real heat caused Blaine to look down at where he was pulling Kurt's shirt, stretching the fabric over a leather cuff. He dropped the offending hand. "Sorry."

"I'm in the fashion industry, my clothes are important."

"Are they, now? So you would be offended if"— Blaine unwrapped the scarf from Kurt's neck, letting it pool on the ground in front of the closed door—"I treated them"—his coat, deftly unbuttoned, followed next, tossed haphazardly over the back of the nearest chair—"as if"—the smaller buttons of the vest took longer, made worse when Kurt tugged impatiently at Blaine's coat, tangling their arms as they both undid the other's vests—"they were from Target?" Vests hit the floor, leaving still more layers. "Seriously, Kurt, are you an onion?"

"Because you're wearing so much less." The reply was sharp, softened by Kurt's eyes flicking between Blaine's eyes and his lips, which he imagined were just as pink and swollen as Kurt's. Blaine stepped in closer, relishing the quick intake of breath audible through Kurt's slightly parted lips, hands coming up to rub against the swath of navy dress shirt revealed by his vest at his hip before turning on his heel to head closer to the bedroom, toe-ing off shoes as he moved.

He heard Kurt behind him before he felt a hand on his shoulder, spinning him around, the other closing on his tie, loosened without his vest. The hand on his tie yanked, pulling him back to Kurt. Their mouths collided hotly, opening to each other quickly. Blaine's hands fisted at the back of Kurt's shirt, rucking it up to reveal smooth, pale skin if his eyes weren't closed to see the fireworks as Kurt's tongue roughly thrust into his mouth, owning him as he guided Blaine backwards. The thud as he hit the wall shook their mouths apart, Kurt seizing the opportunity to press open-mouthed kisses down Blaine's met, sucking lightly at his pulse, the underside of his jaw.

Hands explored the wide expanse of Kurt's back, a groan tearing through his lips as Kurt tugged on his earlobe, soothing the sting with his tongue before continuing on, mouth dotting hot and wet against Blaine's skin.

Blindly fumbling, Blaine pulled his hands out from under Kurt's shirt, drawing shivers and a high groan as his callused fingertips dragged across the smooth muscle, to unknot Kurt's tie. Feeling that Blaine couldn't get the knot loosened, Kurt leaned back long enough to loosen and remove the offending article before taking Blaine's tie again, turning, hitting the wall and dragging Blaine with him.

For a few moments it was different. Lips parted, tongues exploring languidly, hands pulled lightly at the hair they were fisted in or smoothed over the lines of muscle still concealed underneath untucked shirts.

For a few moments, Blaine basked it what he imagined was a kiss of two boyfriends, comfortable with each other's bodies. The frenzied need to uncover and taste and learn had calmed, no less passionate: hot embers waiting for the right puff of air to be set ablaze again.

Slowly, it changed, the slide of Kurt's hands through his curls, down the side of his neck to untie his tie, letting it drop to coil at their feet, further down, unbuttoning Blaine's shirt became the one breath of wind against the embers of the kiss. Lips separated slightly, hot breath mingling between their open mouths as Kurt's fingers push Blaine's shirt off his shoulders, gliding appreciatively over the golden skin underneath.

As Kurt's hands, smoother than Blaine's danced across his torso, hiking up his undershirt over the planes of muscle, the little voice in his head screamed once more. This shouldn't be happening. You don't know him. You shouldn't be feeling like this, let alone sleeping with him. But you definitely shouldn't be feeling this. Pull away and send him on his way or take control.

Having lifted his arms up and been divested of his undershirt, Blaine decided he didn't care. He should be concerned that he was shirtless with a strange man when the lights were on, tattoos visible to eyes that shouldn't know what they mean but could be questioned about them later. But at this moment, it felt good. It felt right. And for tonight, he was going to treat himself.

A firm hand on the back of Kurt's neck drew their lips together again, both inhaling through their noses and eyes closing at the pleasure of the renewed contact, heads tilting and fitting together perfectly. One of Kurt's hands danced its way up Blaine's arm, feeling the bulge of his bicep to cup his cheek and the side of his neck as Blaine leaned up to meet Kurt's mouth.

The flames under Blaine's skin settled down slightly as they kissed, back to relishing the taste of the other and the feel of the other under each other's fingers.

But Blaine didn't want comfort, didn't want familiar. This was new and he wanted it to feel that way, feel that Kurt as being consumed by the same fire he was.

One more tilt of his head, and everything clicked into place. Blaine groaned deep in his throat, Kurt's hands raked down his back to cup his ass, pulling Blaine into him, the force pushing Kurt more firmly against the wall and their hips into each other.

Their mouths wrenched apart at the contact, both half hard under their slacks, panting as their eyes met for the first time since Blaine turned from Kurt.

The world held still as they looked at each other, both breathing heavily and surveying. Kurt's eyes, normally the clear blue-green of a sun-kissed ocean, were dark, pupils blown wide. There was a flush splotching high on his cheeks, down his neck to disappear under his shirt. Lips swollen and painfully pink, the beginnings of scruff-burn on his cheeks. Chest heaving as he caught his breath and Blaine's eye, his own gaze flitting to Blaine's mouth, roving downward with purpose, then back up. Eyelids half closed and body shifting to lean more fully against the wall, legs stepping apart as Blaine felt fingers scrape along his waist, playing at his belt loops before tugging him in sharply.

Blaine's arms came up to brace himself on either side on Kurt's shoulders, broad, so much broader than they appeared. Kurt tugged again. "Come here. No. Closer."

"Not until you lose the shirt, we're not even yet."

"Fuck you." But Kurt, who said he cared so much about clothes, who said he worked in the fashion industry, yanked his shirt and undershirt up and over his head faster than Blaine thought was possible, nearly hitting Blaine in the process.

Blaine ducked quickly, laughing, resettling himself closer to Kurt, the heat radiating between them quickly becoming distracting. "Only seen at night, impeccable fashion taste, freakishly pale, and apparently really fast. Do you sparkle in the sunlight?"

"Blaine Anderson, if you are asking if I am one of the wimpiest"—Kurt's hands curled around Blaine's biceps, drawing him in even closer, both hissing as their bare chests touched, then pressed together—"vampires ever to have been imagined, I am going to leave you to your hand, your imagination, and then a very cold shower." A quick cant up of his hips nearly brought Blaine to his knees, liquid fire pooling at the base of his spine.

Blaine chose not to answer, deciding to Kurt was still far too lucid. Lips attached themselves to Kurt's neck. One hand trailed down the firm length of Kurt's body, circling around pebbled nipples, dipping into his navel, through the light line of hair leading down, disappearing under pants that were still on.

"Why do you still have pants on?" Kurt groaned, Blaine could feel his hands warm against his back, manicured nails digging in. Still mouthing at Kurt's neck, occasionally tilting his head to pull at Kurt's earlobe (because who could possibly resist those delicious noises?), Blaine ran his fingernails lightly at the the tendons of his hips then down over Kurt's slacks. He toyed with Kurt's belt before unhooking it and slowly sliding it free, unbuttoning his pants and sliding them down and off slim hips, Kurt arching off the wall to free them from the curve of his ass.

"I could say the same about…fuck…you"—Blaine had started playing at the edges of his boxer briefs, fingernails scraping lightly through the dusting of hair on the tops of Kurt's thighs before dragging over the thin fabric, tortuously close to the swiftly hardening length beginning to strain against its confines.

Meeting and holding Kurt's gaze and smirking at the eyebrow lifted in question, Blaine sank slowly to his knees, dotting kisses down Kurt's chest, licking across nipples before blowing lightly, further down, tongue leaving a wet trail as he went, pausing to lap at Kurt's belly button, circling it with his tongue.

He laughed and moved his hands to Kurt's hips at the whine and weak thrusts towards Blaine when he moved to the side, mouthing at the indent of his hip bone, sucking hard just above the crease, the cry increasing in pitch as fingers threaded roughly through his curls as Blaine switched sides, leaving a matching mark on the other hip.

"You've waited this long. You can wait a little longer." Blaine sank back on his hips, tugging Kurt's sinfully tight pants with him. He lifted up on Kurt's calf, indicating Kurt needed to hold his leg up to free his pants from where they pooled at his ankles. When Kurt obliged, Blaine pulled his sock with the pants, repeating the move on the other side.

Scooting a little closer, Blaine looked up at Kurt now towering over him, the bulge in his boxer briefs noticeably twitching as their eyes met. "Holy...Fuck, Blaine. You look so good."

Blaine decided he liked it when Kurt's words turned into whines, soaring upwards as Blaine rose up to mouth once, twice at Kurt's length before lowering again, pressing kisses to his legs, moving up one and then back down the other, rubbing his rough cheek against Kurt's knee and grinning as the man above him babbled.

He exhaled hotly twice over the damp patch forming on the front of Kurt's underwear, licking over the fabric as Kurt clutched at his hair, tugging with increasing purpose until—"Blaine. Stand up, lose the pants, and take me to your bed. Fucking me against the wall is fine, but a bed would be-" Blaine silenced Kurt, swallowing his words as he shucked off his own pants, separating only long enough to yank them and his socks off his feet before crashing their bodies together, colliding in a mess of teeth, tongue, and hands racing over the fevered skin of the other.

He stepped back, leading Kurt into his bedroom, narrowly missing the doorjamb. He used the opportunity to turn them and back Kurt up until the backs of his knees hit them bed and he fell, the hands on his hip and back guiding Blaine down on top of him.

A combined effort had Kurt moved towards the center of the bed. Bracing himself with one arm to hover over Kurt, Blaine could only find the strength to stay away for one word before lowering himself on top of the man sprawled beneath him. "Beautiful."

And Kurt really was beautiful, hard lines of muscle rippling under pale skin as he arched his back to try to bring himself closer to Blaine's mouth, drawing a chuckle from Blaine. The laugh turned into a groan as Blaine gave in, sinking down to mouth at Kurt's neck, their hips meeting, rolling against each other. The sensation of Kurt, hot, hard, dripping through his underwear nearly had Blaine lose it, a problem he hadn't had since the beginning of college.

He felt Kurt's fingers tangle again in his hair, tugging as Kurt rolled his hips off the bed and into his. A quick shift to the left and everything clicked again, their now fully hard lengths sliding perfectly against each other, the rough drag of the fabric the only thing keeping Blaine this side of an orgasm.

Kurt's hands slid free of his curls, scratching their way down Blaine's back to cup his ass, one hand remaining as the other slid lower, just under the curve to…holy sweet mother. Kurt's hands pushed Blaine even harder into him and both moaned into each other, thrusting faster. If Blaine didn't do something else soon, it would end far too soon.

With a strength he didn't know he had, Blaine pulled himself back up Kurt's body and away from his hips, quickly memorizing which spots drew the loudest moans, the highest whimpers. The spots that would make his back arch and the breath die on his lips, hips desperately thrusting against the air. The challenge to make Kurt vocal offset the pooling want between his legs displayed in the amount of precome flowing from his hardened cock.

"Stop teasing me and do something, Anderson."

"Bossy, Hummel."

"Yes, now fucking do something before I—" The demand turned into a scream. Blaine was a fast learner. His mouth covered the head of Kurt's cock fast enough to feel the upwards buck of his hips as he lightly twisted a nipple, scraping the hand down to rest above the waistband of Kurt's underwear, pressing right under his rib, the combination of two of the moves that had gotten the best reaction. If the taste of Kurt through the fabric was any indication, Blaine would be completely addicted to Kurt's body by the end of the night.

"As you wish." Raising onto his hips, Blaine smoothed his hands over Kurt, sweat beading on his forehead and dampening his skin. Kurt whimpered and Blaine could feel Kurt's lust-darkened eyes on him, sending another spike on want through him, causing him to nearly fall as he rolled over to the edge of the bed to the set of drawers. Blaine had barely grabbed the small bottle and a foil packet before Kurt had hooked his legs around Blaine's middle, pulling him sideways onto the bed.

Bottle and packet dropped, forgotten as Kurt rolled him onto his back, straddling high on his thighs, their still-covered erections brushing with the contact, Kurt's breath caught as Blaine groaned, hips canting together reflexively. He could kill for more contact. He would steal a national treasure for more contact.

Thankfully, Kurt was on the same wavelength, taking his time to explore Blaine. A constant stream of swearing and praising fell from his lips as Kurt leaned down and dotted kisses across his collarbone, sucking lightly as the skin before moving on, licking against Blaine's fevered skin.

Lightning ran down his spine to join the pool of heat welling at its base as Kurt's mouth, molten-lava hot and deliciously wet, closed around his nipple, sucking it into a stiff peak, free hand raking through the dusting of hair across Blaine's chest before toying with the unattended nipple.

Blaine couldn't think as Kurt ran his thumb over the pebbled skin as he took the one in his mouth between his lips and pulled up lightly, mouth falling open and moaning, hands twisting hard in Kurt's hair before scratching down and up his back. Kurt hummed around the nipple before switching, Blaine whimpering at the momentary loss of contact.

Blaine felt the whimper deepen into a moan he didn't have the ability to stifle as the warmth wrapped around the other nipple, Kurt paying just as much attention. It was more than Blaine could do—he knew he had always been sensitive, but he had never been played like an instrument, his hips thrusting shallowly up and against Kurt.

Kurt sucked hard, pinching his other nipple and Blaine saw stars, arching off the bed, rocking himself against Kurt. The man above him abandoned the stiffened nipple to cry out and thrust back against Blaine, erections meeting as Kurt sit up and circles his hips, slowly, rocking down. Magically balancing himself, Kurt's left hand slid up Blaine's torso from its resting place on the bed, stroking the tattoo on Blaine's right side. And sweet baby Jesus how is a tattoo so sensitive after nearly ten years?

Later, Blaine might be embarrassed by how quickly he found himself teetering closer and closer to coming from only this. At the moment, all he could think about was sinking into Kurt's dark heat, making this entrancing man writhe beneath him. Thankfully, Blaine had a large bed, so when he rolled over, maneuvering Kurt under him, neither of them was pitched to the floor.

Kurt laughed at the sudden move. "Eager, are we?"

Blaine just leaned down, feeling Kurt's smile against his lips and his own answering. The kiss gave them a brief reprieve, allowing Blaine to re-center his head and breathe. Kurt's lips were soft against his own, light and happy as a smile kept tugging on them. Blaine shifted, bracketing Kurt's hips with his knees, resting his forehead against Kurt's as they both cooled off.

Ten breaths later, Blaine decided that they had cooled off enough—he was no longer in danger of coming before he tasted Kurt. The light kisses began to linger, mouths opening again, tongues twisting together, Kurt's stroking against Blaine's, their moans swallowed in the other's mouth. Blaine forced himself away, kissing his way down Kurt's chest, reveling in the increasingly loud moans vibrating in the hard chest under him, each sound nearly causing one of his own.

Wondering vaguely why it took him so long, Blaine moved to the side so he could finally tug on Kurt's boxer briefs. The tight fabric caught briefly, then pulled free, Kurt's length jutting out proudly, flushed a deep pink and head glistening. Between the two of them, they got the underwear completely free of Kurt.

Blaine took a moment to enjoy the man laid out before him, a whimpered "please" reminding him of his plans to taste. He licked lazily across his palm, eyes meeting the now navy of Kurt's, gazes holding until Kurt's drifted shut and mouth opened in a silent cry as Blaine reached out and wrapped his hand around Kurt. He stroked slowly, savoring the silken skin beneath his hand, teasingly pressing his thumb into the prominent veins and over the head, smoothing the wetness gathered. Above him, Kurt moaned obscenely, fingers twisting into the sheets.

Taking pity on him, Blaine moved closer, bringing his mouth down to the crease at Kurt's thigh as his hand continued stroking, soothing a light nip with his tongue. He repeated this, moving ever closer. His mouth hovered over Kurt, meeting heavy-lidded eyes as he encircled the base of Kurt's cock before reaching out and licking up the side from the top of his hand to swirl his tongue around the head, moaning because finally and he had no idea what had taken him so long.

He sank down a little further, an arm coming up to rest against Kurt's hips to still their bucking. He tightened his lips around Kurt, just under the crown, sucking greedily, humming as jumbled, half-formed words spilled from his mouth, high and breathy.

A quick glance up showed Kurt's head thrashing back and forth, knuckles on his hands white as they fisted in the sheets, lips parted in a moan, then the bottom sucked into his mouth before parting to let loose another stream of nonsense.

Taking his time to savor, Blaine worked his way down the length of Kurt's cock, jaw complaining slightly, muscles tight before they loosened at the remembered activity.

His tongue worried the bulging vein on the way down, hollowing out his cheeks on the way up, playing with the slit before sinking back down, a little deeper each time. He would have smiled if his lips weren't already stretched tight—Kurt was amazingly responsive, and between the taste and feel of the cock in his mouth and the little whimpers and cries from above him Blaine was more turned on than he thought was possible. A few minutes of heaven later, Blaine had slowly shifted so he could rest the full length of his forearm across Kurt's hips, pinning him down against the inevitable jerking.

Taking a deep breath and willing himself to relax, Blaine lowered his mouth down, removing the hand holding the hard length upright, then further. He paused, breathing through his nose as Kurt tickled his soft palate.

Pressing down against Kurt's slim hips, he swallowed, throat stretching. As he swallowed around Kurt, his now free hand dropped between Kurt's opened thighs, fondling his balls, moving lower to stroke his perineum, even lower to circle the puckered hole inching its way back up. When the need for air became too great, he pulled off, gasping as he tried to breathe normally.

Above him, Kurt panted roughly, murmurs louder. Blaine took him back into his mouth, humming in pleasure as a hand tangled in his curls, pressing down softly in asking. Humming again (because smiling with a mouthful of hard cock was difficult), Blaine slid back down, letting Kurt's hand guide him until he was swallowing again, nose pressed into neatly trimmed hair, free hand moving again downwards, circling repeatedly, not pressing in yet. Kurt bucked wildly under his arm as the muscle under Blaine's fingertips fluttered with the attention.

When he pulled off, a strand of spit and pre-come strung between his lips and Kurt, a cylinder was poking at his shoulder insistently. He looked up, a jolt racing down his spine to where his dick was pressed into the mattress, still confined by his own underwear, to find Kurt holding the lube bottle in his hand, prodding Blaine with it, seemingly incapable of full sentences.

"Use—use your words, babe."

"Fuck—you—fuck me."

"No more sucking?"

Kurt's eyes darkened and narrowed, his chest heaving as he propped himself up on his elbows, speaking wonders for his determination. "I want you to be inside me when I come, and if you don't get a move on I won't last."

The words shot to Blaine's groin, a groan that might disturb his neighbor rumbling through his throat. He took the bottle, the familiar click the only noise aside from their labored pants. A line squeezed onto his hands before he tossed the bottle to his side, warming it up and coating his fingers before repositioning, Kurt bending his knees and parting his legs impossibly wide for Blaine to settle between. If Kurt was shy he didn't show it, and he certainly had no reason to be.

Sitting up, his own cock hard still hard and straining, begging for attention, Blaine ran the lubed hand down Kurt's perineum, circling the puckered skin. Kurt whined louder, more "fuck..Blaine..now..please..fuck"s falling from his mouth.

Taking pity (and wanting to be buried in Kurt, a desire he seemed to keep forgetting), Blaine slowly pushed one finger in, to the first knuckle, then deeper. Gods above, Kurt was heaven, impossibly hot and tight and fucking him might be the death of Blaine. Oh, but what a death it would be.

Watching Kurt's face for an indication he should continue, Blaine pulled out his finger, sliding two in on the next stroke. He paused, a slight wince at the burn playing across Kurt's face fading with the upwards stroke Blaine gave his cock. Kurt twisted his hips and bore down, obviously searching for more. Blaine obliged, scissoring as he went, mouth going dry and wetness beading through his underwear at the sight of his fingers disappearing into Kurt.

"More. Fuck. More, Blaine." Kurt's voice was breathy, gasping out the words, hands soothing over his torso then up Blaine's arm, tracing the muscle before dropping with the addition of a third slicked finger. There was no wince, just a moan accompanying the now constant rocking hips, still searching for more.

Turning his wrist, Blaine felt in and up..up…Kurt arched off the bed, nearly shouting at Blaine brushed over the spot lightly, then again, Kurt clamping hard around him. A hand in his hair and gripping his bicep yanked him up, Kurt's mouth meeting his briefly, tongues ferociously dueling.

Kurt won, fucking into Blaine's mouth. Blaine took it, enjoyed being owned, the lubed hand resting against Kurt stilled as he explored his mouth. Then Kurt's legs were around his, rolling them back over, Kurt covering him, grinding down, and fuck he still had clothes on.

"You're taking too long." Teeth bit at his chest, Kurt worked his way down until his nose brushed against the offending garment. One good yank freed his cock to the cool air of the room. Kurt ducked down and Blaine saw stars, tongue licking broad stripes from base to head, nimbly drawing circles underneath the head. Distantly, Blaine registered the familiar crinkle of foil being torn, Kurt sliding the condom down Blaine's length.

"Fuck that shit is cold." Kurt hadn't bothered to warm up the lube before slathering it on Blaine.

"You'll warm up in a moment." He shuffled forward on his knees, shins brushing Blaine's thighs as he hovered. Blaine watched Kurt reach under him to hold Blaine upright, catching on when Kurt cocked an eyebrow. His hands joined Kurt's, one positioning so Kurt could sink down, the other slowly stroking Kurt's length.

And then Kurt was sinking down. The head slid inside and Blaine saw stars again, a galaxy of fireworks blossoming behind his eyes, too much for him to buck into it.

And then Kurt sank down, taking all of Blaine in one smooth motion.

It might have been a supernova. Kurt was hotwettightsofuckingperfect. Blaine would give up coming if he never had to leave. Kurt's head dropped backwards, rolling on his shoulders as he ground his hips down, fingers teasing himself.

And then he started to move, and all Blaine could do was lay there and let Kurt ride him, moving roughly, hands braced on Blaine's chest, erection bobbing between them.

Minutes that felt both like hours and seconds passed, Kurt's bouncing becoming increasingly erratic, fisting his cock harshly as he teetered on the edge but couldn't push himself over.

"More. I need more." His beautiful face was twisted in near pain as his orgasm eluded him, desperation making his voice crack.

Wordlessly, Blaine obliged, grabbing his hips and rolling them once more. Kurt's ankles hooked at the small of Blaine's back, short nails scraped down Blaine's back, biting down.

"No. More. Need. Fuck. Need more." His eyes were pleading, frantic, lips bitten harshly. Blaine nodded, sweaty curls moving with the motion.

"Uncross your legs." Kurt obeyed, Blaine hooked them over his shoulders and leaned forward, bending Kurt nearly in half. The new angle allowed Blaine to go deeper, brushing Kurt's prostate if he angled his hips just…Kurt clenched around him as Blaine found his mark again and again, breathless moans a constant soundtrack.

Hands pulled at Blaine's face, tugging him down to kiss messily, mouths open and care gone, lips moving and parting until their breath and moans mingled. Kurt closed his eyes, back and neck arching, a whimper escaping when he relaxed, unsatisfied.

Blaine moved his weight to one hand, reaching between them to twist once, twice, and Kurt's scream died on his lips as he came, a vice around Blaine that drew him over the edge.

Everything went white, eyes closed to the pleasure coursing through his body, thrusting erratically into Kurt, somehow remembering to work Kurt through his own orgasm. He let go when the whimper of pleasure under him became one of pained oversensitivity.

Aftershocks shuddered through him as he kneeled up to let Kurt uncurl and remove the condom, tying it off and chucking it where the trash can might be, before falling to the bed, dragging Kurt towards him. He pressed kisses to the damp face, felt Kurt's answering hands running though his hair, rubbing at the scalp as he nuzzled into Blaine's chest.

"You're..you should…sticky."

Kurt blinked sleepily at him. "Don't care. Cuddle with me."

Blaine did as he was told, snuggling in closer to Kurt. "You're gorgeous when you come."

"Shh, Blaine"—Kurt patted his arm—"I've had a long week and a good fuck. I want to nap before round two."

He nodded against Kurt's hair, pressing another kiss to the locks. Curled up close, legs entwined, Blaine let himself bask before drifting off on a white cloud to sleep.


	3. Part 3

He was warm.

Too warm.

And there was something touching his back. And his hip…

Oh.

Pulling himself to alertness was, generally, difficult for him. Today was no exception, apparently. Even with another warm body in his bed. A warm, male body. Wary of the windows lining one wall with curtains he never remembered to close, Blaine cracked one eye open to peak at the room. Still dark, though he appeared to be facing a shape next to him…

"Good morning, sleeping beauty."

"What time is it?"

"Just after five."

He raised himself up on his elbows, shaking his head slightly. The motion shook Kurt's hand from his back, where it had been tracing his tattoos, Blaine whining at the loss.

"These are pretty."

It took Blaine a minute to register what Kurt was talking about. Oh. Yes. The tattoos that weren't really a secret, but not something he liked talking about to one night stands.

"Thanks." Flopping back down, Blaine rested his head on his forearms, turning to face Kurt, smiling and sighing when Kurt resumed his tracing.

"Do they have any special meaning?"

Blaine paused. Yes. Of course they did. The one on his ribs was the one that said he was family. The ones Kurt was currently tracing showed his rank: center star for Capo, the one to the left his current rank, Consigliore. He had gotten the family tattoo when he was sixteen, as was tradition. The two stars followed a few years ago, when his grandfather passed and right after the bloodbath. No family had been left unscathed, to the point that the younger generation, Cooper and Blaine and their new Capos, and the bosses that had survived had wanted nothing but peace. There hadn't been anyone left to be underboss or consigliore, just Cooper and Blaine. So they were.

"Umm. Yeah. They do."

Kurt raised an eyebrow at him.

He really shouldn't be doing this, but he couldn't seem to be able to stop his words. "Those are in memory of my grandfather. He died a few years ago."—he smiled softly in response to Kurt, who had moved to petting his hair—"And this one"—he flipped himself over—"is a family thing. I got it with my brother."

"You're close to your brother?"

Blaine hummed in assent, distracted by Kurt's hand stroking through his hair, rubbing soft circles into his scalp. Kurt curled into his side, tangling their legs and resting his head on Blaine's arm, effectively pinning him. Long fingers continued their soothing exploration of his scalp. He could feel himself drifting…

"Uh-uh. I was promised round two. We are both awake. It is time for round two."

But he was so warm and comfy. Some of which he must have mumbled out loud because Kurt chucked next to him.

"But Blaine"—Blaine's eyes were closed, but he nodded to show he was listening—"I'm warm and comfy too."

Apparently those words didn't get him moving fast enough for Kurt's taste. Lips, cool and soft, pressed under his ear, again and again. The beginnings of arousal (not the normal morning situation) began, a light tingle growing stronger with each kiss.

"You promised yourself round two."

"Are you saying you don't want me to blow you? Or are you saying you don't want to fuck me? Because"—Kurt leaned in again, the whisper of his breath ticking against his ear—"I am completely okay if you would like to switch it up."

Blaine's breath caught in his throat, partially at Kurt's insistent sucking on his Adam's apple, partially at the appeal of the new prospect.

"Mmm. You want me to fuck you, Anderson? Take you, make you beg and fall apart under me?"

Blaine shivered, the words going straight to his cock.

Kurt's mouth drifted under his jaw and then back down to his pulse point, resting there. Blaine could feel cool lips there as his pulse fluttered under them, a trickle of liquid fire steadily making its way down his spine, pooling between his legs. The remnants of sleep made his brain work a little slower, so the mouth, hot and wet around his nipple surprised him, hips bucking, his own mouth falling open.

Kurt hummed before switching, nimble fingers skating up and down Blaine's sides, tracing the ridges of muscle on his arm, across his collarbone, then back down. Pressing a kiss to his breastbone, Kurt moved up, bringing their lips together for the first time. The staleness of morning breath faded as they moved together, warming up and remembering.

How on earth could anyone kiss so well?

How could a fling feel so right?

He didn't think he could afford to date Kurt. But the more time Kurt spend kissing him, each twist of his tongue around Blaine's, each moan swallowed, each brush of skin on skin had Blaine wondering.

All thought process (the little there was) screeched to a halt as a broad hand wrapped around his half-hard cock, stroking roughly, Kurt's mouth containing the scream that would have woken his neighbor. Kurt shifted, covering him, free hand coming up, stroking Blaine's side.

Blaine whined pathetically, jerking up into the circle of Kurt's fist when Kurt pulled away to lick obscenely against his palm.

He shifted again, weight resting on knees bracketing Blaine's, freshly-licked palm reaching between them. Blaine saw fireworks as Kurt's long fingers circled their cocks, fisting them roughly, both men moaning and panting at the new contact.

Kurt continued two, three, four more strokes before Blaine was crying out, far too close already. "K-kurt. You have to stop."

Kurt pulled back from assaulting Blaine's neck to look at him, eyebrow cocked and hand between them stilling. "Or?"

"Or I am going to come from this alone and I want you to fuck me." Blaine's voice was creaky, cracking every few words as Kurt's thumb resumed its motion, moving tortuously slowly around the head of his painfully hard cock.

"Hmmm." Kurt ducked down, mouthing under Blaine's jaw and back to his ear, hovering as Blaine whimpered at his next words. "I suppose there can always be a third round." Blaine nodded quickly, rigorously, praying that Kurt would fuck him now.

Leaning down, hand between them moved so he could lower himself more fully onto Blaine, Kurt kissed him, dirty and deep. Blaine's mouth opened as their lips met, content to allow Kurt to explore, tongues tangling when Kurt's invited. They were both panting when they separated.

"Flip over." Finally. Blaine scrambled to comply, pushing a pillow under his hips and hissing as the cool fabric rubbed against him. He could feel Kurt shifting behind him. "Where the fuck did? Never mind. I've got it." There a soft click before a hand on his shoulder, warm and big, pushing down lightly.

A whimper fell from Blaine's mouth as he waited, the hand on his shoulder now stroking his back. Finally, a warm, slick finger was circling his entrance, dropping down to trace behind his balls before back up. A slow burning fire started to grow at the base of his spine, tendrils flaring each time and at each place Kurt touched him.

When the finger pushed into him, too slowly for his taste, Blaine arched back and bore down, trying to get Kurt inside him faster. The long finger thrust into him, too slowly and too easily, the burn fading quickly. "More," was all he could manage.

And Kurt obliged. The hand smoothing over his back was removed and the hand inside him pulling back—Blaine whimpered at the loss—before it was back, cooler and slicker. This time, two fingers pushed in.

The slight burn disappeared at the fire coursing through him grew hotter. Kurt's free hand pulled at his ass. The groaned "fuck you're gorgeous" at the sight made him whine, desperately trying to hump the pillow and thrust back harder against Kurt's fingers.

"More. Need you."

"One more finger."

"Quickly."

In the back of his head, Blaine was surprised that Kurt followed the direction, pulling his fingers back to add more lube. His eyes rolled into the back of his head when Kurt slid all three fingers in at once, another groan tumbling from his mouth. Half formed words and pleas followed as Kurt efficiently stretched and lubed him before pulling back. The whine at the loss was pathetic, but Blaine couldn't help himself. He was dripping onto the sheets below him and everything was on fire, the breeze from the air conditioning on his flushed back and the brush of the soft hairs on Kurt's leg almost too much.

What felt like an eternity later Kurt is back, hands at Blaine's hips before he pulls up, maneuvering Blaine onto knees spread wide. Kurt's legs were hot against the back of his thighs. His hand was slick as it gripped his hip, pulled him open.

He inhaled once. The exhale was one long, obscene moan as Kurt's tip brushed against him before pushing in.

Both sighed as the blunt head popped in. Kurt stilled to allow Blaine the needed time to adjust to his girth. And gods he had had that in his mouth and it had not felt that big or that perfect. The pain of the stretch faded away and Blaine needed more but couldn't seem to form the right words that would get Kurt to move. He tried to get "move" to be something he mumbled but his lips didn't cooperate.

He arched his back, supporting himself on one forearm as the other reached back, fingers brushing Kurt's arm and then thigh. He grappled for purchase, trying to urge Kurt into him.

"More?"

Thankfully, Kurt didn't wait for a reply Blaine couldn't give. One long, delicious thrust, obscenities and half-words fell from their mouths. Kurt in him was perfection, hot and thick and filling him completely. He could feel Kurt's hipbones digging into his ass as he rolled his hips, grinding into Blaine.

"Fuck. Blaine. You feel amazing." Kurt pulled out a little and rocked back in, both moaning.

"Move. Fuck. Move. Please." Blaine canted his hips back, desperation fueling his words.

Kurt, hands firm on Blaine's hips, pulled back again, Blaine keening as he moved too slowly, the drag teasing but not enough. The shallow thrusts that followed had Blaine keening, begging for anything.

Kurt paused, the head of his cock teasing Blaine's rim. Blaine thought he could hear Kurt's smile when he cried out for more, arching his back in search of the teasing head. Finally, just before Blaine thought he was going to lose his mind, Kurt slammed into him, the slap of skin on skin echoing in the room. Blaine's moan cut through the harsh slapping as Kurt took up a punishing rhythm, fast and hard. He pulled out and thrust shallowly every few strokes before repeating the process. Under him, Blaine's nerve endings were on fire, Kurt's hands on his back and the two spots on his balls that Kurt's hit every stroke in.

He was close, so fucking close. Just a few strokes and he'd come. Shifting his weight to one forearm, Blaine reached under himself to fist himself roughly.

Blaine whined high when Kurt stilled deep in him rolling his hips, hands roaming the muscles of his back. "Why…why did you stop?"

"Need you to"—Kurt's hands dropped to his thighs, urging Blaine to raise himself up.

Blaine let go of his cock with a whimper to balance himself as Kurt resituated him. A moment that seemed like forever later, Kurt seemed to have accomplished his goal, hands briefly to rub Blaine's back before—oh.

Kurt leaned over Blaine, back to chest, pale arms on the outside of Blaine's shoulders, sliding smoothly back into Blaine, the slow drag delicious and not enough. Stars burst behind Blaine's closed eyes when Kurt brushed his prostate and when he bottomed out: the break had taken him back from the edge but Kurt's back against his, completely surrounded by the taller man as he thrust steadily into Blaine, had him racing towards it again.

Another stream of words started as hot lips dotted open mouthed kisses across his shoulders and the back of his neck in time with the thrusts pushing him forward on the bed. He twisted his neck back, searching for Kurt's lips. He met them as Kurt's hand snuck under him to wrap around his length, Kurt's tongue in his mouth smoothing the moan.

Being completely surrounded by Kurt was overwhelming, the sweat between them slicking where their skin met. Their mouths breaking apart so Kurt could nip Blaine's shoulder, Blaine dropping his head to give Kurt better access. The endless stream of moans broke off as Kurt picked up speed, the hard slap of skin on skin starting again. Kurt's fist tightened around Blaine, almost painfully, sending flashes of electricity speeding along his skin.

He could feel his orgasm in the pit of his stomach and the base of his spine, the buildup making his toes curl and back arch, ass clenching hard around Kurt.

They both whined at the same time. Blaine was so close it hurt, but he couldn't tip himself over the edge, even with the hand erratically fisting his cock and Kurt pounding into him so hard he knew he would feel it the next day.

Five strokes later and Kurt was losing his rhythm, strokes becoming erratic, breath staccato pants in Blaine's ear. "Up."

The command didn't process until Kurt was dropping Blaine's painfully hard length and hauling him upright without breaking the rhythm even more.

His head dropped back against the shoulder behind him when Kurt re-fisted Blaine. Blaine's hands tangled in Kurt's hair, damp against his fingers, pulling him down for a messy kiss as he fucked himself back onto Kurt.

Two more thrusts and Blaine's balls were tightening, another and he was falling, head lolling back and eyes closed as he moaned brokenly, clenching around Kurt, ropes of come covering Kurt's hand as Kurt worked him through his orgasm. Blaine's clenching drew the man behind him off the edge too, Kurt's teeth sunk into the muscle of his shoulder as his hips thrust wildly.

They collapsed onto the bed, Kurt still covering Blaine, mouthing at his neck again as they both rode out the aftershocks. When they were both breathing nearly normally, Kurt withdrew, leaving Blaine feeling oddly empty. His back was too cool when Kurt moved to dispose of the condom, then too warm when he came back. Blaine turned in the arms wrapped around him, snuggling closer.

"You"—Kurt yawned into Blaine's hair—"You should clean up."

Blaine shook his head, content to listen to the beat of Kurt's heart. "Shower later."

He thought he could feel Kurt nod, but he was too busy falling asleep.


	4. Part 4a

Blaine was the first to wake up the second time that morning. He took the moment while Kurt slept to just admire.

Kurt, long and lean, stretched out on his stomach, head pillowed in the crook of Blaine's elbow. The soft shh of his breath tickled against the sensitive skin.

If not for the breathing and his memories of the prior night, Blaine wouldn't have been surprised if there had been a sculptor preening over his masterpiece in the corner of his bedroom. Kurt's skin might have been the finest of alabaster, smooth and both soft and hard, delicately pale over toned muscle. From the crown of his head to the bottom of his feet, Kurt was sculpted, the definition of well-worked muscle evident without being overbearing.

Eyes roving back up, lingering on the leg thrown over the sheet draped from the top of his thigh over his ass, he allowed himself to wonder about the possibility that Kurt, the Kurt in his bed and the Kurt he had talked to for hours, could be a constant in his life.

Obviously, he would need to get to know him more—honestly know, not use the family's connections. And clearing up the Sebastian nonsense before falling too deeply would be good. But, if he was honest with himself, that might be a problem.

But at that particular moment, well-fucked with an Adonis making soft groans as he stretched in his sleep, dark blue sheet slipping from the curve of his ass before settling closer to him, Blaine couldn't bring himself to care.

Wincing as the move pulled at his shoulder, Blaine turned slightly to face Kurt, running his fingers through unfairly thick, silky tresses, all Blaine wanted to do was never leave his bed.

A few minutes later of Blaine knowing he should feel weird about watching Kurt as he slept but only wanting to write songs about him, Kurt hummed and stretched, eyes blinking sleepily.

"Good morning"

Kurt hummed again before speaking. "'Morning."

Blaine couldn't help the smile as Kurt blinked slowly to clear his eyes.

"Thank you for last night."

Kurt's eyes drifted closed, long eyelashes fanning out. There was one that had dropped free, resting against his cheekbone, nearly begging Blaine to reach out. And, being bad with impulse control when it came to Kurt, he did, thumb brushing the lash away. Kurt opened his eyes at the touch, meeting Blaine's gaze. Both boys smiled at each other, Blaine's thumb still stroking as his heart melted.

When Kurt looked away, eyes probably searching for the clock, Blaine felt his stomach clench painfully. This would be when they awkwardly cleaned up, dressed, and said their goodbyes, generally without exchanging numbers.

Just like the other hookups.

But Blaine really didn't want to never see Kurt again. He really hoped Kurt felt the same.

"Shower and some breakfast? And my brother might have left some clothes you should fit if you would like. I don't know how you are about re-wearing clothes two days running but you strike me as—"

Kurt's lips, closed and gentle against his own silenced his ramblings. "Anyone ever tell you that you're cute when you're nervous?" A hand on his chest made whatever response he had had fly from his mind. "Yes to all the above."

He closed his hand around Kurt's where it rested against his chest. "This would involve moving, wouldn't it?"

"Sadly, yes. You did suggest it."

With a dramatic sigh that made the corners of Kurt's mouth quirk up, Blaine sat up, making the other man flop back down as his pillow (Blaine's arm) moved. "Uh-uh. You too. You're the one who wanted cleanliness and food."

"Stop being right." Kurt levered himself up with a groan. Grinning too broadly at the movement, Blaine hopped out of bed, letting his hips sway as he walked slowly to the bathroom, the other man's gaze hot against his back. He was sore, and in the best possible way.

He met Kurt's eye over his should when he reached the bathroom door. "You know, I redid my bathroom when I moved in. The shower fits two now."

Kurt's lips stretched, a smile lighting up his face and eyes darkening before Blaine turned around, continuing into the bathroom to start (hopefully) their shower.

Fresh towels and toothbrush resting on the counter, steam spilled from behind the curtain as he stood up...into a very firm Kurt. Hands that looked even paler and bigger than they were stroked down his chest, settling to rub at his hips, tracing the indent lazily as Kurt's mouth descended on the side of his neck, worrying a mark into the skin.

Blaine reluctantly pulled out of Kurt's arms, tugging at a leather covered wrist, leading the way into the shower.

"Oh. I should—" Kurt tugged back out of Blaine's hold to wrestle the cuff off his wrist, presenting Blaine his denuded wrist after setting the cuff safely on the counter.

Blaine had always enjoyed sharing a shower with his lover, taking the time to re-explore while wiping clean the less pleasant remainders of their previous rounds. And he had every intention of doing just that, slowly using the knowledge he had gleaned about Kurt's body to his best advantage. He relished the thought of Kurt's wet skin, water beading and suds sliding down, mimicking his mouth so many hours before.

That was until both their stomachs reminded them loudly that neither had eaten a dinner more substantial than a handful of nuts at the bar. After Blaine's growled particularly ferociously, causing both men to double over in fits of giggles, Kurt nearly knocking over the bottles of shampoo, conditioner, and body wash, one shared look decided they should probably bathe quickly and eat before resuming their mutual exploration.

After they shampooed each other. That wasn't really bathing.

Kurt's hair was soft beneath his fingers, lather washing away when he urged him back under the spray, both men humming contentedly as Blaine worked.

When Kurt returned the favor, the confident swirls of fingers against his scalp had Blaine purring, melting into the hard body behind him.

"Maybe, if we want to eat, we should wash ourselves separately." And because his fingers and groin tingled at the prospect of washing Kurt, slick muscle and skin yielding underneath them, Blaine knew Kurt was right.

As it turned out, watching Kurt bathe himself was torture enough. Long, strong fingers rubbing the loofah across his body, the trail of suds sliding down lean, long legs, taking with it the reminders of rounds one and two.

Kurt giving the loofah back to him startled him out of his reverie. Closing his eyes to Kurt's heated gaze from under the showerhead as he rinsed himself of conditioner and suds, Blaine scrubbed hastily, taking Kurt's vacated place under the water after Kurt stepped out.

Blaine followed quickly, shivering as he wrapped the towel around himself, drying off.

The sight of Kurt already by the sink brushing his teeth, so domestic and boring, was entirely too appealing.

Willing his overeager cock to ignore the heat now pooling again at the base of his spine, he slung the towel back around his hips, tucking it in securely before stepping up next to Kurt. Perfectly timed, Blaine wet his toothbrush right before Kurt needed to rinse his mouth out. And he hadn't even been trying for timing.

When he straightened, Blaine failing miserably at ignoring the shift of muscles in Kurt's back, Kurt gestured to the bottle of saline. "May I?"

Blaine tried to say "Go ahead" around the toothbrush and foam. But Kurt just stared. So he settled on nodding enthusiastically. And he probably had a spare case…Toothbrush hanging from his mouth, he tapped Kurt's hip to get him to move…Ahh. Yes. There. He stood up, door to the cabinet and case falling to the counter clicking at the same time.

"Oh. Thanks. But I'm just going to pop them back in. I don't have my glasses and I'm blinder than a bat."

Blaine nodded, brushing resumed as the desire to watch Kurt, biceps flexing as his hand moved in tiny circles, muscles of his back moving as he lifted his arm to pop the contact back in, repeating the process for the other side. He stepped back obligingly when Blaine moved back to the sink so he could rinse him mouth out.

Deciding Kurt had had a good idea, he did the same thing, happily feeling Kurt watching him as he peeled the bits of plastic off his eyes. Bubbles filled his stomach when he sought and met Kurt's eyes in the mirror, drinking in the blush that splashed across his cheeks and ears at being caught.

"Now, let's see where Cooper put his clothes." What he didn't say was this was where Coop was to come as his safe house. If it was determined more prudent for him to be here than trying to get to the house—which hadn't happened, Cooper just liked to be ready—he would arrive on Blaine's doorstep until they got the all clear. It had, of course, nothing to do with Coop's ability to take care of himself. But in his position as underboss, certain measures to ensure his personal safety for the sake of the family were important.

"Oh, that's okay. I can just wear what I had on. I have really sensitive skin, so I have to use a special detergent."

"Good to know." And it really was. If he did this…dating thing, he'd want to know that. Already he wanted to know everything possible about Kurt.

They look at each other for a minute, gazes flicking down to the other's kiss-swollen mouths multiple times before they step closer, mouths slotting perfectly. The once-lingering burn of vodka is gone, obliterated by the nearly overpowering mint of the toothpaste. Kurt broke off the kiss first, stepping back again, smiling and biting his lip before turning and leaving the cramped space of the bathroom doorway, probably in search of his underwear.

Two breaths, slow and deep, pulled Blaine back into himself even as he felt scattered by the whirlwind that is Kurt Hummel.

In his re-centering as the bewildering man in question fumbled around the living room for his scattered belongings, Blaine's bladder spoke up. Closing the door, Blaine relieved himself, thankful his cock was soft enough for it. Hands washed and toilet flushed he wandered back into his bedroom.

Clad only in his undershirt and boxer briefs, a lush, dark purple pair that looked sinful against the fresh cream of his thighs, Kurt sat on the edge of the bed, watching as Blaine dressed to match. "You realize the only reason I am not pinning you to the bed and blowing you within an inch of your sanity is that we will both faint from starvation before we come, right?"

"Oh, yes. I am well aware of that. But I was thinking that I didn't pay enough attention to your dick last night. I should be blowing you." The blue of Kurt's eyes had receded, now only a thin border around lust-blown eyes.

"As appealing as either of those options are, I think we decided breakfast was next."

"Mmm. Food sounds like a good plan. Maybe even better than you, no offense."

"None taken. I should have things for pancakes or scrambled eggs if you'd like. I should even still have bread if you want toast."

"Scrambled eggs sound delicious. And I am fine without toast, but I won't be offended if you want some."

Dressed and towel hung up to dry, Blaine retreated to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee and their eggs. The sound of the toilet flushing and sink running preceded Kurt's arrival in the kitchen, where he leaned up against the counter to watch Blaine as he worked.

The little room was quiet except for the gurgling of the coffee pot and the sizzle of the eggs, but comfortably so. Blaine would have been happy to talk, but, just like in the bathroom, he was completely at ease working in the comfortable silence with Kurt in the room, watching him.

It was odd, but good.

"Where are the mugs?" Kurt spoke over the gurgling coffee pot as it finished brewing.

"Cabinet right over the pot."

"How do you take your coffee?" Out of the corner of his eye, Blaine saw Kurt pulling down the mugs and pouring the coffee as he spoke.

"Light on the sugar and milk until it's tan."

"Tan?" Kurt had stirred in the sugar and had crossed to the fridge for the milk.

"About the color of my skin. I'm not overly picky."

Kurt poured the milk, stirring again before dropping the spoon into the sink, setting Blaine's cup next to him, turning and leaning against the counter.

Blaine looked up when Kurt moaned after he sipped, eyebrows raised. "What?"

"What is this coffee? What is your secret? It is delicious."

"Umm. Bag's on the shelf below the mugs, so feel free to check. It was a present from my parents, a leftover from…something."

"Well, they have good taste in coffee."

"Yes, they do. Could you grab the plates? They should be—k0; Blaine gestures as he pulled the pan off the burner.

"Of course." The plates appear next to the stove, Kurt searching the drawers for flatware, a joyful "There they are" cried when the correct drawer was located.

They sit caddy corner at the table, turned towards each other and feet tangling as they eat. The conversation, ranging across every topic Blaine thought was possible and more flowed smoothly. It felt as if they had known each other forever: everything down to their conversation just worked.

As they were finishing their second cups of coffee, plates long empty their talking was interrupted by the tinny sound of "Rio" coming from Blaine's phone, which must have been left in his bag last night.

"Sorry. I need to get that. It's my brother." Standing, he made his way to where the bag had dropped by the door.

"What, Cooper?"

"Hello to you too, squirt. I was just checking to see how your date went last night."

"Going, Coop. Still going."

"Blainey! Fucking him on the first date? I didn't know you had it in you. You haven't said anything about…"

"Coop. Not now, okay? And of course not. I'm not an idiot."

"Okay. Just wanted to remind you about talking to Will later. Jesse will text you the time in a few. It will probably be soon, so send Kurt on his way."

"Can I go finish my breakfast now?"

"Sure. Just remember to have your phone close when you're blowing him so you aren't late for the meet. And not a word about where you're going. You can't bring him."

"Whatever, Cooper. Bye."

"Bye, Blainey." He ended the call, frown creasing his forehead as he stared at the phone in his hand.

"Is it going to explode if you keep staring, because that would be pretty damn cool." Kurt was amused and questioning from his place at the table. "Or is this your way of telling me your last name isn't Anderson"— Blaine's breath caught in his throat—"but Stark?"

That drew a chuckle from him. "No. I wish. It was just my brother reminding me about something I have to do this afternoon."

"Oh? Can you elaborate?"

Fuck. If they were further into their relationship, then maybe Blaine would come clean. "It's a long, boring story. Just family stuff."

"Ahh. Okay." Thankfully, Kurt didn't seem too hurt over what must have looked like the lie it was.

The rest of breakfast passed smoothly, conversation picking up where it had left off. Thankfully, Kurt didn't pry into what Blaine needed to do later that afternoon, following when Blaine steered them away from that topic.

Plates and coffee cups washed and put away, Blaine and Kurt had migrated to the couch, sitting sideways. Their bare knees touched and every so often one of them would stroke at the skin of the other's thigh or reach out and brush the other's arm while making a point.

Cheek resting in his cupped hand as he watched Kurt speak, really watched, Blaine came to his decision. If he said goodbye to the man across from him right now he would mourn the loss. If he had to say goodbye after a month with days like that one, he didn't know how broken he would be.

But this, if he read the situation and his feelings right, could be it. Logic could go fuck a duck. This moment, this man, felt right and he never wanted to say goodbye to it.

An insistent poking to his ribs knocked him out of his thoughts. "Am I boring you?"

"What? Kurt, it may be a little early to say this, but I don't think you could ever bore me." The words rushed from his mouth before he could stop them.

Kurt looked a little surprised, flushing at the words. "Oh. Um. No. I...I could say the same about you."

"You don't have to, you know. It is only the first date."

Kurt's lips were soft against his, the kiss as sweet as it was brief. "Blaine, I'd really like to see you again."

His heart was jumping with joy, his smile too wide to kiss Kurt properly. But that didn't stop him from trying. He could feel Kurt's answering smile against his lips. And then Kurt was pulling away, smiling again before reaching for Blaine's phone, ringing insistently from its place on the coffee table where Blaine had set it (in case Jesse finally got around to texting).

"You should answer it."

"But then I'll have to leave."

"You will. But we knew that would happen. And the world isn't ending tomorrow. Didn't I just say that I wanted to see you again?"

Blaine ducked his head and leaned in close to kiss the side of Kurt's neck, mumbling the words against the skin. "True. You want me to answer it."

"Mmm"—Blaine sucked hard at the skin under Kurt's ear. Was it a bit childish for a man his age to be leaving such a visible hickey? Yes. Did he care? Not at all.—"No. I want you to keep doing what you're doing. But you should answer your phone. It could be important."

He was probably right. Blaine pulled off Kurt with a sigh, taking the phone and looking at who had texted.

Jesse.

"You must be psychic."

"Hmmm?" Blaine rolled his head into the fingers tangled in his hair, kissing the inside of Kurt's wrist before looking back at the text.

They were meeting in two hours at the Atherton house. It took an easy hour to get there, but he didn't want to be late.

"You have to go, don't you?"

"Yeah. I do. Soon."

"I wasn't lying when I said I took off work until Monday. I don't have any plans this weekend if you'll be free after."

"I'll probably end up staying at my brother's tonight. Maybe tomorrow, after my gig?" Blaine was cautiously hopeful. This was territory he was unfamiliar with.

"I would like that"—Kurt kissed the tip of his nose—"I would like that very much. Now, go get dressed."

When Blaine didn't move, Kurt disentangled himself and stood up. Blaine watched Kurt move through the room, retrieving his scattered clothes. "Pick your jaw off the floor." Kurt shimmied into his unfairly tight pants.

"How did you…"

"Magic."

"Magic. Of course. Makes complete sense." Blaine wanted Kurt to always be smiling like that, eyes shining as he shrugged on his shirt. Blaine sighed as the buttons, deftly fastened, sealed the beautiful expanse of Kurt's chest and arms away from him.

"You'll live. You're seeing me tomorrow. You can last that long. Now, come on. Up you get. You need to get dressed and do whatever family thing you need to do." Kurt's hand was warm in his, smooth, and dry. His hands fell to Kurt's slim hips tugging them closer together before burying his nose in Kurt's neck. Which smelled absolutely delicious. "Stop. Blaine. You need to go be productive."

"M'brother's ah idit. Don't need ta."

"What?"

Blaine stopped nuzzling and followed the pull of Kurt's hands back. "My brother's an idiot. I don't need to go."

"You probably do. And if you're going to come over to my place tomorrow night, I need to clean and buy food to cook for you."

He blinked a few times to decide if he heard Kurt correctly. One look at the smile on Kurt's face he knew he had. "Okay. That sounds…that sounds amazing."

"Good. Now, get dressed and tell me about any foods you are allergic to or despise." Blaine followed the tug around his wrist as Kurt led him into his bedroom, catching himself when he was pushed gently towards his closet. Pulling clothes out, he did as instructed, running through the short list of what he can't eat without a hospital visit (shellfish) and what he really would rather not eat (anything too far outside mainstream and no wild game. He had never gotten over Bambi).

Blaine tucked in his shirt and shrugged on a cardigan, turning to see what Kurt thought. He thought it was a good outfit. But he wanted Kurt to think he looked good.

And they had only gone out once, less than 24 hours ago.

He was such a goner.

How could he not be, the way Kurt was looking at him, eyes raking his now clothed body as if Blaine was the first meal he had seen in a week?

"Does this meet with your approval, Mr. I-am-in-fashion?" He spun slowly on the spot, allowing Kurt to take him in.

Kurt didn't answer immediately, taking his time to approach Blaine while his eyes still roamed. Blaine opened his mouth to re-ask his question, the words catching when Kurt's mouth descended on his, hotter and dirtier than Blaine could have prepared for, and gone too soon. "You look delicious."

Neck arched as Kurt kissed his way down and pulled Blaine into him, hands confident on his ass. Again, Kurt pulled back too soon, voice rough and broken against Blaine's ear. "And we should leave before I fuck you against the wall."

He wasn't able to control his sigh as he stepped back to dab on cologne and grab socks and shoes, collapsing on the bed to finish dressing. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Kurt in the bathroom fiddling with his hair.

"Feel free to use whatever products you need."

A grateful smile was flashed at him, Kurt reaching for a container and running the product through his hair, pulling it up and away from his forehead.

Shoes on, he leaned back and watched, reveling in the simple, easy domesticity they had fallen into. Annoyingly, a loud alien like sound came from the other room. Cooper had texted again. Probably wondering where he was.

And he really didn't care. Though the possible resurfacing of the lost Picasso was intriguing. So was getting Kurt back into his bed.

Somehow, and Blaine wasn't really sure how (seeing as both of them really wanted nothing more than to give the other an orgasm), Kurt managed to get them both out the door and down the stairs.

"I will be at your show tomorrow, then we'll go back to my place?" The unsure quaver in Kurt's voice needed to be kissed away. So Blaine did just that.

"I will look for you in your normal place."

"What?" Kurt pulled back, brows furrowed.

"Yeah. Bar where you can see the exits."

"Huh. I never realized that."

"Now you do. And if you are really going to force me to go, I need to leave now. Which way are you headed?"

Their final goodbyes (for the day) came at the subway station, a quick kiss and a hurried grope before heading in opposite directions.

Three hours later Blaine loosened his bowtie and collapsed onto the sofa in his office. Ten seconds later (he counted) the creak of paneling signaled Cooper's arrival.

"You could walk out your door and down the hall like normal people do, Coop."

"B, I am not normal people. We are not normal people. Normal people do not have billion dollar mansions with secret passages. We are enjoying them for the benefit of the little people who are not us. Now"—Cooper swung the chair around, straddling it to face him—"Tell me about Will and the Picasso."

"Can't I have five minutes to process? I'll write my report then."

"No. Now. You shouldn't be taking the break anyway. I need facts, then your judgment, not the facts clouded by your judgment. If you are tired, you shouldn't have spent last night fucking your newest conquest. And your door needs greasing. Do that before dinner tonight."

Fuck. Now a five minute break was too much? And Coop had seemed almost okay with the fact he had found someone when he had called earlier.

"Blaine." The lightness of Cooper's tone was betrayed by the hardness of his eyes.

He wanted to tell Coop that he was taking this all too seriously. But this was Cooper's life. This was all he had ever wanted out of life. He had never strayed from what their parents—father—desired for him. And he had gotten it. His role as underboss fit him like a well-tailored suit.

"Short version."—Blaine sat up, facing his brother's cool gaze.—"Will saw the painting. It is, to his eyes, either the real thing or an excellent forgery. It matches all accounts we have of the painting."

"Any sign of damage?"

"Surprisingly good condition. Nothing that would make it unsellable. Most noticeably the canvas looked to have been cut, but according to Will, nothing else worth mentioning.

"What was the plan for it?"

"Will is to scout for foreign buyers, dropping hints that he has it and letting the rumors spread to drive up the price. Smythe doesn't seem to want to move it just yet, but his Lopez seemed to be pushing for a closer date."

"Tell Will we'll pay him double if he coughs up the names of possible buyers—"

"Already done. And we are getting plans ready to move in if the suits show."

"Which they will, because that's what suits do."

"I'll write up my official report now. There should be a copy on your desk in an hour."

"Good. Dinner is at normal time. We'll have our meeting after it. It'll run late this week in light of this situation. Father wants each of us to debrief in addition to a walkthrough of all reports."

"Okay." Cooper got up, swinging the chair back to its original position and leaves.

Heaving a sigh, Blaine levered up off the couch (which really isn't that comfortable anyway), and sat in the chair before his desk, waking his computer up and starting his report.

Some time later his phone beeped at him. No one texted him. He didn't really have people he had such relationships with. Mind still whirring with Spadary and Picasso problems, he unlocked his phone.

Kurt.

"Miss you already. Can't wait to see you tomorrow. I hope your family isn't driving you crazy."

He smiled blissfully at his phone for a few seconds, the butterflies fluttering in his stomach a nice change. He typed out a response: "I miss you too. Tomorrow is too far away. I will try to keep my sanity for you." Phone replaced next to him, Blaine settled down to keep working, the same happy smile slow to fade.


	5. Part 4b

His dream, which had been filled with flying cars and places that seemed familiar but weren't, was suddenly filled with…air raid sirens?

The alarm buzzing next to his ear finally registered as an alarm and not air raid sirens. Which, Blaine supposed in his half-asleep state as he fumbled to get the blaring to stop, was a good thing.

Still not awake, Blaine forced himself out of bed and into the kitchen to press start on the coffee pot (prepped the night before, which was best from experience) and stumbled into the shower, eyes bleary from sleep and lack of glasses.

When fully awake he didn't know how he hadn't killed himself in the shower. The one with Kurt was the exception. Now, the light wasn't on to give himself a few extra minutes of half-sleep and he took it. Each new scent and the beat of the water against his back was a step towards waking up.

Waking...all of him up.

Just because his brain wasn't able to form a complete thought didn't mean his dick didn't remember what had happened the last time he had been in that shower, whose body had been scrubbed last by the loofah.

The increasingly familiar pooling of heat slunk through his body, the heat of the shower worming its way through his veins. He hissed at the chill of the tile against as his back, the hiss becoming a drawn out moan. His hand drifted down his chest, mouth falling open as he imitated the phantom touches of a remembered hand.

Hand soapy, Blaine began stroking, long and slow, wrist twisting over the crown before sliding back down. Over and over again, his hand and breath picked up speed.

Blaine's thoughts conjured images of long pale fingers instead of his own, a taller body pressing him into the wall, teasing himself with the fantasies. Cupping his balls, he rolled them in his free hand as he fucking into the tight circle of his fist, head lolling against the hard tile. Breath caught in his throat. His hips jerked faster and faster, stuttering as he came, white ropes hitting and streaking across his chest. Eyes rolled back into his head, a long moan that might have sounded like a name falling from his mouth.

On slightly wobbly knees he forced himself off the wall to fiddle with the temperature, rinsing himself back off—the steam of the shower made it difficult to catch his breath.

Clean and cooled down, Blaine shut off the water and stepped out of the shower, sated from his orgasm and still tired, but awake enough that he could drag on boxers and a shirt and pour himself a cup of coffee.

Once his pot of coffee had been drunk and the world was back in focus (three cheers for corrective lenses), Blaine forced himself to be an adult and do productive things. Like check his phone, to see if he needed to do anything for the family.

Dressed in almost real clothes—he put on sweats. That totally counted—Blaine unplugged his phone and scrolled through the messages. No missed calls, thankfully. Two new messages.

One from his brother, reminding him to not forget their 5pm conference call to go over what the Five said.

One from Kurt, saying he was glad that Blaine had survived his family and that he couldn't wait to see him later. They had texted during Blaine's break after he finished his report and before dinner.

Blaine typed out his response to Cooper—"I'll be free"—even though of course he would be free. This wasn't a new thing. Each week was the same. Dinner on Friday, call on Saturday. Meetings and assorted other things the rest of the week. He was now high enough up that he didn't have anything more than administrative duties, which suited him fine. It gave him time to take on more regular gigs (though a surprising number of places weren't thrilled that he wouldn't play Friday nights).

He looked at his phone for a second, trying to gather his thoughts for Kurt's text.

They had gone out once, soon to be twice.

There had to be some kind of boundary, right? Blurting out "I love that you care if I had my sanity" was a bit too much at this point, but it didn't feel like too much.

This was absurd.

So he settled on "Thankfully I survived with most of my sanity intact. I can't wait to see you tonight either."

Phone in his pocket he wandered into the bathroom. If he was going to be functional today, he might as well start now. The piano wouldn't practice itself.

Teeth brushed and bladder empty, Blaine grabbed his bag from its place slumped against the wall, bringing it with him into the spare room. Sheet music placed neatly on the table beside the piano and bag back on the floor, his back cracked as he stretched. Before he sat Blaine set an alarm on his phone to remind himself to take a break for food.

Reminder set, he settled in for a decent practice session before the call and the gig that night.

What seemed like one hour was actually three and his phone buzzed loudly next to him. He had done better than he had hoped he would. It had been a few days since a really good practice session, what with the Smythe thing and Kurt having taken up the time he would have used the day before.

His sandwich was fixed and eaten quickly, followed by an apple and three consecutive glasses of water. A quick check of the time said he had four hours until the conference call, plenty of time to figure out his set for that night and maybe start learning a new song. That would be fun.

His second alarm rang just as he was tiring. The dress run through was always more draining than the performance itself. The perfectionist in his head caught and noted every mistake, every time his fingers weren't perfectly in sync, every hesitation only he could hear. He noted each, and played the set from the beginning, correcting every prior mistake. No one else would notice it tonight, unless there was a prodigy in the room, but he would. So this was his performance, for himself, the one who would notice and change the missteps. Later would be for fun and money and people who would be too drunk or ill-informed to care. Later wouldn't be riddled with mistakes, but they would be so small no one would take notice.

Five minutes before the call, Blaine gathered up his music (which he wouldn't use, but just in case) and slid it back into his bag, thinking about that night.

Would it be presumptuous to make up and bring a little bag? If you considered the end of their last date, it probably wouldn't be too much to presume he would be…spending the night. And having at least a toothbrush and clean boxers would probably be good.

But presumptuous was something Blaine would never be caught as.

With four minutes to go, he switched to a slightly bigger bag with hidden pockets. A pair of boxers went in one and his toothbrush would go in the other later.

Two minutes to go, Blaine refilled his water, sipping as he pulled out his headset and settled on the couch.

One minute to go and his phone sang as a text from Kurt came through.

"I may be incorrectly assuming how the night will go, but you may want to bring things for tomorrow, unless you want to wear the same outfit again. Which you might. I don't know. Okay. I'm going to shut up now. See you soon. :)"

His response—that he had a similar hope for their night—sent as his phone rang with Cooper's call.

The conference call with his father and brother went like every other. Father reprised the important parts of the meeting and waited to hear what his sons' responses were. The Five had decided to warn Smythe and his Spadarys to not seek out a buyer until the suits cleared. There had been confirmed reports of them asking questions they shouldn't know to ask. Will had gone underground in case Smythe caught word that he had talked to Blaine and Jesse, so that source was inaccessible. Which was really only bad news. Without Will—someone who they knew would talk to them—Smythe would have to find a new fence. Which could give the suits the opening they needed.

If Smythe would hold off on moving anything for a few months, let everything die down, the suits would be gone and if he insisted on being stupid enough to move a painting declared destroyed it could happen quietly.

If.

In the pit of his stomach, Blaine didn't think Smythe would be so reasonable. Smythe was too ambitious and set in his idea of how things should be.

The option then became contain the problem—isolate the Spadarys—which would be difficult, take them out completely—which no one wanted to do—but that would be bloody and they had lost too many already, or leave it alone and let Smythe clean up his own mess.

Hopefully, Smythe would see reason.

Blaine's thoughts were still swirling, trying to come up with plans and contingencies and possibilities for Smythe when he hung up his phone and began packing up his bag for that night (removing the boxers from his bag and switching back to his normal one).

He forced the thoughts of Smythe to the back of his mind as he got ready. It wouldn't do to be thinking about work while…working. Or while he was with Kurt. He didn't do these things often, but he was pretty sure thinking of one man while your mouth was occupied with getting another off was bad form.

Pesky thoughts of work vanished as soon as he walked into the bar and saw Kurt at his normal spot. Matching smiles lit both their faces as Blaine walked to Kurt, dropping a light kiss to his cheek.

"Good to see you again."

Kurt caught Blaine's jaw and kissed him hard, lips closed but no less passionately. "Good to see you too."

"I should go put my stuff in the back and then tell the owner I'm here."

"You should."

The first half of the set passed smoothly. His excitement about that night did not influence his playing that much. His break was spent talking to Kurt about brands of Vodka and the merits of top-40 music. The second half raced by, a blur of notes and words. Each song brought him closer to an evening with Kurt.

His inner teenager needed to chill the fuck out. He was an adult. He should behave as such, and not bounce about like a fifteen year old with a crush.

Alas, his inner teenager didn't listen to him. His hands nearly shook as he grabbed his bags from behind the bar. They stilled as Kurt wrapped him in his arms, kissing him soundly and relieved him of one of the bags before pulling back and leading them out into the cold.

Kurt's apartment was modern and clean and completely him. It was small, but what apartment wasn't? Paintings hung on the walls and leaned against the floor. One was on an easel, possibly still wet. Did Kurt paint? So he asked.

"I dabble, sometimes. I'm not as good as I used to be. But it's a way to release stress when I can't deal with designing anymore."

"Ever tried music?" Blaine followed Kurt as he led them into the kitchen, jackets removed and bags dropped by the couch.

"How did you know?"

"A guess."

"Glee Club in high school. If you can imagine it, I had plans of starring on Broadway."

"I can imagine it. Kurt Hummel starring in Kurt Hummel: the Musical."

Kurt's eyebrow rose as he leaned against the counter. "You're mocking me."

Blaine stepped closer, pressing him back and meeting his eyes with a look that he knew would melt most hearts. "Of course not. Seeing you onstage wouldn't surprise me at all."

Something in his eyes must have convinced Kurt that he wasn't lying. He ducked, pressing a quick kiss to the corner of Blaine's mouth before pushing lightly at his chest. "I have to cook for us. Would you like anything to drink in the meantime?"

"Whatever you're having is good."

"I've got a white already decanted if that's good? It'll match best with dinner."

"Sounds delicious. If you'd like, I can pour and you can cook."

"I'm fine. It's pretty much done. Glasses are"—Blaine pulled the glasses from their place hanging under the cabinet.

"I've got them." He poured, handing Kurt's glass to him. The room was silent but for the click of their glasses and the soft sound of their swallowing. "This is delicious. What is it?"

"A French chardonnay. It's my personal favorite. Now, feel free to drag one of the bar stools around and I'll start on dinner."

"What is for dinner?"

"Oh. I'm sorry. I thought I told you. Pasta with roasted eggplant, fresh tomatoes, and ricotta. And if we have room, a slice of cheesecake to split."

"That sounds divine. Don't let me stop you."

Kurt cooked smoothly and efficiently, the long lines of his body moving with a dancer's grace. Blaine could see his dancing training. He wondered idly, sipping his wine to hide his smile, why Kurt had quit performing.

"Oh my god. Have you considered a career as a chef?"

"I'm glad you like it."

"I could marry it. I can cook, but nothing like this."

"You watched me. It's not that hard."

"But I never would have thought to do that."

"And now you will."

The rest of dinner was, in a word, blissful. Conversation flowed faster than the wine. Somewhere during the meal their legs had entwined under the table and occasionally Kurt's foot would graze up and down Blaine's calf. Kurt would flush when Blaine did the same. It was adorable.

Wine finished, Kurt started stacking plates.

"Let me help. You cooked."

He would do dishes any time if Kurt smiled like that. "Thanks. Grab the wine glasses for me? We can wash them after dessert, if you would like dessert."

"Sounds delicious."

"Coffee?"

"Only if you are making for yourself too."

"Like I'd ever turn down caffeine. And seeing as I don't have plans on sleeping much tonight…"

Blaine's jaw dropped as Kurt trailed off, throwing a heated glance over his shoulder before resuming his coffee making. "Mr. Hummel, if you want me to survive dessert I suggest you not say things like that."

Kurt hummed, turning the coffee pot on and facing Blaine. "Then I shan't say things like that, Mr. Anderson. I would like very much for you to...survive dessert."

Blaine couldn't take the teasing anymore. He closed the distance between them and brought their mouths together. Kurt cupped his face as their mouths opened to each other. Blaine inhaled sharply as Kurt's tongue slid into his mouth, tasting and teasing.

Blaine pulled back as the coffee pot finished. "We should get that, I'd like to try your cheesecake."

Kurt looked confused. "Oh. I didn't make this, actually." His laugh was self-deprecating. "If I made an entire cheesecake I would finish it by Monday, and my pear hips don't need that at the moment."

Blaine nuzzled against Kurt's neck (which was really weird, but felt fantastic. Maybe he would write a song to Kurt's neck. No. That would be weirder). "If it is good enough for you, I'm sure it will be heaven for me."

Kurt relaxed against him, dotting kisses on Blaine's head as he hugged him closer. "Okay. Dessert time."

Blaine licked a broad stripe up Kurt's neck in response.

"No. No. Cheesecake. Not me. Because if we don't share it I'll eat all of it and I don't need that at the moment."

Blaine heaved an exaggerated sigh. "Fine." He pulled back, pouting like he had had his favorite toy taken away. Kurt just laughed at him, bopping his nose with a finger. He wrapped his hand around Kurt's extended wrist, pulling the hand down to kiss the finger before stepping further back to lean against the opposite counter.

Kurt made their coffee, remembering how Blaine took his, and set them aside as he brought down a plate. Blaine felt his jaw drop slightly when Kurt bent slowly to get the container of cheesecake out of the fridge, dark gray slack pulling sinfully tight against his ass.

A coy smile graced Kurt's face as he turned around. He knew exactly what he was doing to Blaine and loving every minute of it.

"Tease." Blaine mumbled, but Kurt obviously heard, if his soft laugh was any indication.

Blaine's heart sang at Kurt's equally soft response. "Only for you."

Cheesecake on its plate and forks in hand, Kurt led the way back to the table. Once they were seated, Kurt spoke again. "Let's play a game."

"With cheesecake."

"With cheesecake. For each bite you take, you have to remove a piece of clothing."

"I don't think I've played that game before."

"That's fine. I'm sure you'll get the hang of it."

"Who goes first?" Blaine followed Kurt's lead and took off his shoes under the table.

"You're the guest. You go first."

"Trying to get me naked, Hummel?"

"I thought that was the general plan for tonight, Anderson."

"Hmm. True." Blaine picked up his fork and took a bite. "Oh my god. This is amazing. You have to tell me where this is from."

"After you remove a piece of clothing, good sir."

Blaine reached under a table and removed a sock. "Your turn." The cheesecake was from a deli a few blocks away, he learned. Their pastries were also heavenly.

Kurt took his bite, choosing to remove his tie.

Back and forth they went, conversation continuing as they ate, sipped their coffee, and stripped, eating half of the slice of cheesecake. Until they were both down to their undershirts.

Then…the conversation stopped as they paused and exchanged cheesecake and coffee kisses, breaking apart to let Blaine yank off his undershirt.

Warm hands smoothed over the planes of his chest, back up, and then down his arms. Kurt's pupils had started dilating, roving over the newly exposed skin. Blaine shivered under the scrutiny. "Uh, Kurt?"

"Hmm?" Kurt snapped himself out of it. "Oh. Staring. Sorry." He quickly ate his bite and stripped his own shirt off. Blaine feasted his eyes on the pale skin, gorgeous and beautiful and how was he not fighting tooth-and-nail for the opportunity to have this man?

Kurt gave him a minute to ogle and then cleared his throat. "Blaine?"

"I'm suddenly not hungry for cheesecake anymore."

"No?" Kurt stood up, towering over Blaine, stepping closer and crowding his personal space. "If you want part two of your dessert, you should follow me." Just as Blaine was leaning in to kiss the soft skin of Kurt's stomach, he moved again, unfastening his belt as he walked into his bedroom. "Coming?" was thrown over his shoulder, careless and heated all at once. Blaine felt himself stirring as he raced behind Kurt, catching him at his waist and bringing them both crashing to the bed.


	6. Part 5a

Sunlight streamed through his window, falling over his chest and the face of the man using it as a pillow. Soft hair fanned across his skin, all traces of the sweat that had slicked their bodies cooled from the night.

Blaine looked, and looked, and could feel the words bubbling at the back of his throat. Three little words that had started trying to claw their way out of his mouth as they approached the three month mark. And now that he and Kurt had been…doing whatever it was they had been doing…for nearly four months it had been getting harder and harder to swallow them back down.

The gentle, slow breath hitting his stomach reassured him that Kurt was still asleep when he whispered those three words. I love you.

He knew that loving him was a dangerous thing. The past three months had been eerily quiet, but there had been stretches when he wore a Kevlar vest and a tracking device concealed in a cuff or watch. It had been too quiet…but it had allowed them to carry on as they had that first week, spending more and more nights at each other's apartments.

By the end of the first month, the all-consuming thirst for the other's body had been slaked. The passion hadn't gone, but the fear that one day he would wake up and Kurt would be gone without notice had diminished. They hadn't stopped fucking and their fucking hadn't stopped being mind-blowing. But they had slowed down, taken hours to tease and memorize the feel and taste and smell of the other's body.

By the end of the second month Blaine spent as much time with Kurt as he did alone or at the house. They watched movies together, cuddling on a couch, washed dishes together, dancing through the kitchen, wet hands leaving trails that only lasted a moment. They had the talk around then. Neither had been seeing any other people, but bother of them wanted it to be official.

By month three, Blaine thought he knew what he was feeling. He was happy in a way he didn't ever remember being. But Kurt hadn't met his family, though he did know that they had a…special situation. Blaine hadn't met Kurt's family either. He knew he would have to soon. That his declaration would have to come with an explanation. A complete explanation. Kurt felt like forever. And forever would include Blaine's family. It was only fair.

He only hoped Kurt, the brave man who faced down divas and ran around New York like a native, wouldn't run after Blaine told him.

For the moment, nearly four months in a steady, monogamous relationship based on truth and one lie, Blaine was content to hold Kurt in his arms and forget the world outside his apartment.

The breath hitting his chest changed: one deep sigh and then the pattern of someone awake.

"Good morning, beautiful." He heard the happiness in his own voice, covering the words and dripping like thick honey.

Kurt snuggled in closer, trying to burrow closer into Blaine's side. His leg, thrown over Blaine's thigh, pulled Blaine closer.

Blaine had learned that it was easiest to just let Kurt take his time waking up. Leaning down (pulling his back and oh, Kurt must have left marks across his back and where he hit the wall hurt), his lips brushed the top of Kurt's head before he started disentangling himself.

Gradually, he wormed his way out of Kurt's hold and off the bed. He pulled on boxers and went to make them coffee, glancing at the clock. Ten. Damn. No wonder he was functioning—it was barely morning anymore. Even though they both collapsed around three am that was still seven hours of deliciously restful sleep. And gods did it feel good.

He poured in enough water and grounds for two cups for each of them and surveyed his food supplies for breakfast. Maybe pancakes with a touch of lemon and blueberries.

His phone sang from where his pants had dropped the night before. He sprinted to it, turning off the Rio before it could disturb Kurt and answered.

"What, Cooper?"

"Can't a brother call to extend his brother's boyfriend an invitation to dinner so he can be introduced to the family? It's been what? Four months? For a one-time thing, he sure hangs around a lot."

"Can we not talk about this now? He doesn't know about the family and I don't think he's ready to."

"Then do it in stages and don't show him the armory. So tonight bring him to dinner. He can help in the kitchen during the meeting. And we may end early tonight. Then you can have the rest of the weekend except the call tomorrow to fuck his brains out. Or have your brains fucked out. Whichever."

"No, Cooper."

Cooper's response was a hum before the call ended in Blaine's ear. His brother was getting weirder by the day.

The skillet was on to preheat and he was finishing mixing the batter when Kurt walked in, clad in a pair of boxers and one of Blaine's shirts, too tight across his chest and too short for fashion but Blaine was not going to complain about that.

Long arms wrapped around his waist and lips kissed under his ear. "Good morning."

Blaine leaned back against the hard body behind him, neck twisted as he sought Kurt's lips. "Good morning, sleepy head. Welcome to the land of the living."

"So says the man who is morally offended by the existence of alarm clocks and tempts fate by cooking sans shirt." Kurt kissed his cheek and went to fix their coffee, giving Blaine's ass a light slap as he passed.

"I wouldn't do that if you don't want burnt pancakes." Blaine brandished his spatula, then blushed when he realized what it might look like and went back to his pancakes. Kurt leaned against the counter next to him, setting Blaine's coffee down and sipping from his own, a soft smile bringing light to his face.

Blaine cooked and Kurt sipped his coffee, a peaceful silence settling between them.

The pancakes were almost done when the knock at the door jarred their peace. They had done this for weeks. No one had interrupted before.

"Were you expecting someone?" Kurt cocked his head as he asked.

"No…" Oh no. He wouldn't have. Please, god of pancakes and morning sex, let it not be Cooper.

"BLAINEY. I know you're in there." Cooper's voice, entirely too chipper, sing-songed from behind the door.

The gods of pancakes and morning sex were apparently not on his side.

"If I don't get that he'll just use his key. I'm surprised he waited this long."

Kurt nodded stiffly, set his coffee down and took charge of the pancakes. Blaine, still clad in only his boxers, threw the door open, using his best bitch face on his brother.

"What do you want, Cooper? I am kinda busy, as I told you earlier."

"Yes, but since you wouldn't let me talk to your beau and I haven't gotten the chance to meet him yet, I decided I would drop by…Ooh. Pancakes." Cooper had shoved past his brother to and walked to the kitchen. "Hello, Kurt. I'm Cooper." He stuck his hand out. Kurt met Blaine's eyes over Cooper's shoulder. Blaine responded with a shrug, forcing his worries down.

"Hello Cooper, how nice of you to drop in on our breakfast for two." Kurt's tone was cool, eyes narrowing at Cooper as he flipped a pancake.

"Blainey can't cook for two and that smells like Mom's recipe. So there's plenty. Have any coffee?"

Cooper didn't wait for an answer, helping himself to what was left in the pot, oblivious to the uncomfortable silence. "Close the door, Blaine. You don't want to be flashing your neighbor." Blaine shook his head and shut the door, returning to the kitchen to grab another plate and fork for Cooper, since he had apparently invited himself to their breakfast.

Kurt, confusion and wariness dancing across his face, just stared at Cooper, who had taken the place and fork and helped himself to pancakes and a seat at the table.

"Come on. I know I'm pretty. You don't have to stare. Sit and eat."

Blaine shook his head and grabbed his and Kurt's plates. Arms wrapped around him from behind and he stilled, leaning back into Kurt's hold.

"Why is your brother interrupting our breakfast?"

Plates safely returned to the counter, Blaine turned in the circle of Kurt's arms, his own coming up to drape across broad shoulders. "The sooner we sit and eat with him the sooner he leaves."

Blaine felt Kurt searching his face. He sighed and nodded.

His heart could sing and he couldn't figure out why this made him so happy. But it did. So he settled on showing it. Rising up on tip toes Blaine cupped Kurt's face, stubble rough and wonderful under his palms. "Thank you." His voice was a whisper, private even with Cooper's prying eyes watching them.

Kurt smiled and nodded, ducking, lips soft against the corner of Blaine's mouth. Hands still cupping Kurt's face he guided pink bow lips back down to meet his squarely.

Vaguely aware of Cooper watching them, lips stayed closed as eyes drifted shut, the kiss lingering when they broke apart.

"NO SEX IN THE KITCHEN." Cooper's shout was muffled around the mouthful of pancakes but no less obnoxious. Blaine's head fell to Kurt's chest, the strong thump of his heartbeat soothing when he didn't know he needed it.

"It's my kitchen, Cooper. You're the one interrupting."

Kurt cuddled him closer for a minute, bending lower until his lips brushed Blaine's ear. "The sooner he eats the sooner he leaves, right?" Blaine nodded against his chest.

They broke their embrace at the same time, Blaine picking the plates back up and Kurt taking their coffee cups.

Cooper was nearly done when they sat down.

"So, Cooper." Kurt's tone epitomized formality. "What prompted you to drop in so suddenly on our breakfast when I know you are going to see your brother later?"

"Actually," he swallowed the last of his pancakes, "I wanted to talk to you. I called earlier but Blainey didn't put you on so I came over. "

"Why?" Ice crystals hung from Kurt's words. Blaine's annoyance with his brother faded as he watched Kurt take on the underboss of the Genovese family (not that Kurt knew that yet).

"I wanted to invite you to dinner tonight."

Blaine choked on his coffee. Kurt's hand rubbed circles on his back as he got his breathing under control, eyes unmoving from Cooper's.

"Is that an invitation or a demand?"

Cooper's eyes narrowed. "Do I seem like the type of person who would threaten his baby brother's latest beau?" Blaine was going to kill Cooper. "And it has been, what, four months? Isn't that long past time to meet the family? Unless it isn't that serious for you."

Oh, god. They were going to have to have a talk. The talk. And figure out where they stood. Cooper, why won't you let me have nice things?

"Blaine?" He looked at Kurt's face, unreadable. "Do you want me to meet your family?"

He wanted to dig himself a hole and hide. How did Cooper always frame it so it was Blaine's fault?

"It's up to you."

"What time?" This was directed at Cooper. Kurt's eyes held 6 words in them—we will talk later. For the first time in nearly four months, Blaine was worried he would never wake up next to Kurt again.

"Seven."

"Dress?"

"Business."

"We'll be there."

Cooper clapped his hands together, flashing a smile Blaine knew was supposed to melt hearts. "Fantastic. Now, enjoy your breakfast before it gets cold and I will see you at seven." He ruffled Blaine's hair and left.

An awkward silence fell in his wake. Apologies of all varieties built in the back of Blaine's mouth, fighting to be said.

"So. That's the infamous Cooper Anderson."

Kurt's words triggered the flood of apologies Blaine had been tamping down. "I am so sorry about that I wouldn't have let him in I understand you might not want to meet them yet we never had that talk I didn't want to pressure you I am so sorry he ruined our breakfast."

The torrent of words died with a finger pressed to his lips.

"Yes, that was unexpected, but Blaine, do you not want me to meet your family?"

"What? No. I want you to. But I didn't know if you wanted to."

"Blaine." Kurt's voice soothed, a balm against fraying nerves. "I don't know about you, but I haven't had anyone else in my bed or my heart for four months. I..." He trailed off, swallowing a few times. "I would love to meet your family. I didn't bring any of this up because you never spoke fondly of them. And I didn't know you needed a label for us. I would be proud to introduce you as my boyfriend and lover instead of just my lover."

Hot tears pricked the corners of his eyes, threatening to spill over. "I..." the words caught and broke in his throat. "I'm glad. I want you to be." He tried to blink away the tears, embarrassed until he saw Kurt having the same problem. He leaned in, bringing their mouths together in the sweetest, most tender kiss he could remember.

When they broke, lips just beginning to swell and tongues still tasting the other, they smiled at each other. Blaine could float he was so happy. Even with the looming prospect of dinner that night, he felt like nothing short of a zombie apocalypse could kill his high.

"Now, how about we put breakfast away for now?"

"Why?" Kurt's eyes were adorably confused.

"Because I am feeling more in the mood for newly-officially-boyfriends sex in the kitchen I was told I wasn't allowed to have sex in."

Kurt chuckled, rumbling deep in his chest where Blaine felt it as he kissed a path down it. "Marking your territory?"

"Something like that."

When they had collapsed, smelling of sweat and sex and radiating happiness, neither mentioned (loudly) the twin marks on Kurt's hips or the one over Blaine's heart.


	7. Part 5b

They ended up eating lunch out. Even then, only the growl of their stomachs and the hardness of the wood against their backs made them get up. They traded kisses and touches as they dressed, Kurt pulling from the clothes he kept on one side of Blaine's closet, running the mousse he left under the sink through his hair and using his toothbrush, putting it back next to Blaine's. They stayed nearly entwined the entire time, touches almost reverent, as if neither was sure this wasn't a dream. Blaine sighed with relief each time their skin met. It wasn't a dream. Kurt was there and his.

The three words were back, pressing at the back of his throat, itching across his tongue, demanding to be said. But he swallowed them down. He needed to figure out how to tell Kurt that and about his family. Because there was no question in his mind that he loved that man. But his family was a definite, inescapable obstacle.

Not today. Not tonight. First declarations of monogamy and love did not belong on the same night. He could wait and show his love instead of saying it. He could do that to keep Kurt by his side.

Finally they made it out the door, picking up Thai to share and walking to a park midway between their apartments. The air was crisp, the sky a magnificent blue that appeared rarely and generally the day before a storm.

They shared a bench, thighs pressed together, a steady conversation and the container of pad thai going between them, comments about passing outfits and children. They fed each other bites, the taste of Thai in the other's mouth not discouraging any kisses.

If Blaine had passed himself and Kurt in the park, he would have gagged at the sweetness and averted his eyes at the intimacy.

Even a few hours in, it was nice to be someone's.

They finished their late lunch and sat for a while on the bench. It was nearing two so they had a while to just sit and enjoy. Despite the chill of the air, the sun was warm on his face as he let his head loll onto Kurt's shoulder. The words were back in his throat and this was getting really annoying. Soon, he promised himself. He will tell Kurt soon. And then he will tell Cooper that he thinks Kurt is it (which he does). And then he'll tell Kurt everything.

And he will not think about what Kurt's reaction will be.

Somehow, when they aren't looking, time passes and it's nearing four in the afternoon.

A fact of which Blaine is apprised when his pillow pulled out his phone, shrieked, and jumped up. Blaine scrambled to not fall onto the bench where Kurt had been.

"What?"

"Get up get up get up!" Kurt squeaked at Blaine, tugging on his arm.

"Kurt." Blaine stood as directed, stilling Kurt's movements with hands to his shoulders.

And then he started moving again, voice still high as he explained. "Blaine. It's nearly four. I am meeting your family in 3 hours. It takes an hour to get anywhere in this cursed city. We both need to get ready, so we have to go to each other's apartments and still make it on time."

"Do you want to split up and meet back at my place?"

Blushing, Kurt bit his lip and looked down. "I'm not ready to say goodbye to you yet. Even for a little while," he whispered, quavering.

And with that, Blaine could feel himself falling a little more in love with that man. "Kurt." He could feel his voice start to crack and swallowed before continuing. "Your place and then mine? I can shower at your place while you get ready and then we can go back to mine and I'll get dressed."

"I l…" Kurt's Adam's apple bobbed and he tried again. "You're amazing. We'll do that." Blaine tugged him in for a light kiss before offering his arm. "Lead on, good sir."

The walk wasn't very long but was enjoyable, their easy banter picking back up after their emotional moment in the park. Somewhere during the walk, Kurt's hand slipped down his forearm, tangling their fingers together.

Kurt's apartment looked the same as it always did when Kurt opened the door and motioned Blaine inside. "Since we're short on time, we probably shouldn't shower together."

"That's fine." Blaine kept his voice low and sultry, taking Kurt's hips and pulling them closer together. "I want surviving-meeting-the-parents sex later."

"Mmmm," Kurt moaned as Blaine nuzzled against his neck, "That will definitely make it worth the wait. So..." Kurt stepped back, tapping Blaine's chest, "make yourself at home and the shower is yours as soon as I'm out."

After removing his shoes and coat by the door, Blaine wandered into Kurt's bedroom to collapse on the bed and wait. From inside the bathroom, the door cracked open, Kurt's angelic voice floating in over the steam, high and beautiful.

Blaine couldn't resist humming along with the chorus, smiling at the ceiling when Kurt changed the appropriate pronouns.

Kurt switched songs seamlessly, even humming along to an instrumental piece, and Blaine lounged on his now familiar bed, basked and waited for his turn. He determinedly refused to think about the future past his turn in the bathroom. He would not think about how nervous he was about bringing Kurt to dinner. This wasn't an area he had experience in.

Kurt's head peeked out a minute after the shower switched off. "I've got to shave, but you're welcome to the shower." He rolled himself off the bed, stripping off the first two of his too many layers and folding them neatly on Kurt's bed, padding to the open bathroom door.

Kurt's skin was warm and still flushed under Blaine's lips when he kissed his shoulder. "Don't do that," Kurt scolded without heat, "I'd rather not nick myself today."

"Good plan." Blaine took off his remaining clothes and clambered into the shower, the water still warm from Kurt's.

"What exactly should I expect tonight?" Kurt asked from the other side of the curtain.

"Umm…Possibly the Spanish Inquisition. Possibly a few bland questions. Probably the Spanish Inquisition."

"But Blaine…" Kurt was giggling, loudly.

"Yes, Kurt?"

"No one—no one expects—the Inquisition." Blaine opened the shower curtain a crack, peering through to see Kurt doubled over the sink, face still streaked with shaving cream, laughing silently, breaths gasping as he tried to regain control.

"You okay over there?"

A gasped, pained "yeah" was his response, so Blaine went back to his shower, rinsing out the shampoo and massaging in conditioner.

The novelty of smelling like Kurt, if even only for a few hours? Totally hadn't worn off yet. And he thought Kurt might have the same feeling when they stayed over at Blaine's.

He could hear Kurt humming again as he brushed his teeth and started his rounds of moisturizers.

Clean and rinsed off (the water was getting cool, so it was a good time to exit the shower), Blaine shut the water off and stepped out, wrapping the towel Kurt handed him and drying off. Space was a little tight for two grown men moving around and using their personal space, but they managed.

Kurt hung his towel up and walked naked back into his bedroom, round globes of his ass begging to be bitten. "Close your mouth, you can tap my ass later." Blaine closed his mouth obediently and went back to drying off.

A few minutes later, his own teeth brushed and scruff shaven off (his father preferred that he kept himself clean-shaven. So even though Kurt enjoyed the scruff, it had to come off), Blaine hung up his own towel and went back into the bedroom.

He bumped his hip into Kurt's where he stood in front of the dresser, apparently debating the qualities of one undershirt over another. "You'll look stunning in either. And anyway, no one will see it except me later. I'm not going to turn you away based on undershirt selection."

"You're my boyfriend. You're supposed to say those things. But this one," he gestured to the one in his left hand, "might show through the shirt I was planning on wearing. The other isn't as comfortable, but it wouldn't show."

"I think you are the only person I know to be so picky about his undershirts. No," he stopped Kurt's protests, "I think it's adorable, not annoying. Wear the one in your left hand. And a vest. Then it won't show through the shirt and you'll be comfy."

Kurt smiled at him, then noticed the lack of clothes and the time on the clock behind Blaine. "Put on clothes! It's later than I thought and neither of us are close to being ready."

Blaine just nodded and pushed Kurt towards his closet. "Get dressed, dear. We're fine on time."

Hand on a pair of his boxer briefs, Blaine stills, then grabs one of Kurt's instead. They're plainer than his and the fit might be a little off, but the look on Kurt's face will be more than worth it.

Clad in the underwear that fit better than he thought it would and an undershirt of his he had pulled from his drawer, Blaine joined Kurt in front of the closet to find an outfit to get him back to his apartment.

"Are you wearing?" Kurt asked, glancing down at Blaine's attire.

"Your underwear? Yup."

Kurt rolled his eyes and continued dressing, shrugging into his vest (a dark teal that looked magnificent against the paleness of his shirt and brought out the green in his eyes). He buttoned it, eyes never leaving Blaine's. Blaine's eyes in turn seemed glued to the long fingers expertly doing up the tiny buttons without looking. The hand, so strong and sure ran down his chest, teasing, catching lightly on those buttons, the other rummaging in the closet.

He could feel his breath catch in his throat. They didn't really need to go to that stupid, stressful dinner, did they?

Kurt cleared his throat, pushing clothes into Blaine's arms. "You can stare all you want later, I promise. But you have to get dressed now. No," Kurt grabbed Blaine's hands and dropped the clothes into them, "that look may work on other people. It's time to get dressed now."

The smack of Kurt's palm on his ass as he went into the bathroom made him jump. "Not fair."

"Hey," Kurt carefully dried off the counter before leaning in closer to futz with his hair, meeting Blaine's eyes in the mirror before responding, "You started it when you put on those."

"Fine. But tell me you don't like them." Blaine posed ridiculously, sticking his ass out like a pin-up girl.

"Mmm. No. I definitely like them. Now get dressed. Time crunch, remember?"

Kurt turned back to his hair and Blaine, now without an audience to pose for, did as instructed. Clothed, he flopped back onto the bed, kicking his feet and humming as he waited for Kurt.

"Is your family going to like me?" Kurt had finished with his hair and looked stunning—a contrast to the insecurity playing across his face and the arms wrapped around his chest. "I haven't done this in a while. Like…six years. And it didn't end too well. I thought you should know that before we went through with this."

Before Kurt had finished speaking Blaine was standing and wrapping Kurt in his arms. "My family is going to love you. You are an amazing person, strong and funny and witty and smart and caring. Most of all, you make me happy. I know they aren't the easiest to get along with sometimes, but they only want what they think is the best for me." The words were back, vying for release at the back of his throat. "And once they see that you are the best for me, they'll cool off."

Blaine pulled back to look at Kurt's face, both men fighting back tears again. "Stop making me cry. I don't want to be blotchy and gross when I meet your family."

"Even blotchy and gross I still think you're beautiful." Kurt beamed at him, grabbing his face and kissing him.

"I think you're beautiful too. Okay. Off to your place and then to the wolves. I mean your family."

"You don't have anything to worry about," Blaine said as he and Kurt helped each other into their jackets, "I think you could take Cooper."

"Really?" Kurt's eyebrow was up, incredulous.

"I do. You two may be snarky, but you'd get him into a corner and beat him with his own reasoning." I'll just have to disarm Cooper before you two start.

Kurt pulled him forward by his belt loops and kissed his temple lightly. "Let's get going, then."

"I'll let you dress me." Blaine had stubbornly only let Kurt dress him a few times, claiming to want to retain his own style, which Kurt laughed at.

"Even better." Their hands, entwined, only separated for the pair to tie on shoes and Kurt to lock his door and tuck his keys away.

The walk back to Blaine's apartment is filled with discussions of what their plans for the upcoming week were. Kurt would need to be finishing a major project for work and might not be able to stay at Blaine's as many nights. And Blaine would possibly be dealing with problems of his own. They decided definitely next Friday night—Blaine would still have dinner with his family (maybe with Kurt again) and then they would go to Blaine's apartment. If Blaine was late, he would leave a spare key for Kurt.

What he didn't say was that he might have had made Kurt his own key.

Just in case they figured out where they stood.

Because tempting heartbreak just seemed to come easily to him.

Several times during their walk, Blaine felt an odd prickling on the back of his neck. As if someone was following them. He tried to keep his concern off his face, forcing himself to keep the same pace.

Kurt obviously felt something was off too. He surveyed the people around him, craning his neck a few times to look behind them. "Do you feel like…?"

"Yes. Almost at my place. We can talk there." He was going to murder his brother if the tail was his. Or maybe castrate him.

The sensation that they were being watched faded, leaving both men on edge as they trotted up the stairs to Blaine's entryway.

"I wasn't imagining that, was I?" Kurt led the way into Blaine's bedroom, heading straight for his closet.

"Feeling like you were being watched? You weren't imagining it." Blaine frowned as he sat on the bed. Part of him hoped it was Cooper. If it wasn't, they had a serious problem.

"I mean…it is New York, and it isn't the first time that I've felt that on my way here."

Blaine's heart stopped. He would need to talk with his brother. This was on the verge of being very, very serious.

"That's…not good. I wonder who is so interested in you. Don't take it personally," Blaine swallowed and stood up, standing next to Kurt and holding him close, "but I hope that you are imagining it."

"Blaine, I really hope I am too." Blaine kissed Kurt's neck, careful to leave the perfectly coiffed hair undisturbed.

Blaine turned away to turn on music—the situation had been tense enough before the eerie feelings on the walk to Blaine's. Music would help.

Stripped to his—Kurt's—underwear, Blaine danced around the room, belting along to Dancing Queen. Kurt looked up from Blaine's closet every few bars with a smile and a shake of his head. Chosen outfit laid out neatly on the bed, warm hands that fit perfectly into the curve of his bare waist guided Blaine to them.

Not stopping his dancing (how could anyone stand still when Roxy music was playing?) Blaine dressed. He shimmied into his pants, hips wiggling to the beat, drawing a laugh from Kurt, seated on the bed.

"What?" Blaine twirled as he tugged on his undershirt, amazed that he didn't fall over.

"I am dating a sixteen year old."

"Is something wrong with that? Or are you saying you don't like my music?" Blaine wasn't concerned—he had done this before and knew Kurt was only teasing. "Or is this a veiled compliment about my recovery time, since you, old man, need longer?"

"Just because you're a year younger than me…" Kurt pouted at him, slumping his shoulders exaggeratedly.

Blaine danced over to stand between his legs and grabbed Kurt's arms, pulling him as if they were dancing together. Kurt tugged free and wrapped his arms around Blaine's hips and nuzzled briefly against the soft part of his lower stomach. The temptation to run his fingers through Kurt's hair was countered by the knowledge that if he did he'd be sleeping on the couch (of his own apartment) that night. He contented himself with stroking the soft skin of Kurt's neck instead, drawing a purr from the other man.

With a soft sigh Blaine backed away from Kurt's embrace, laughing at the sad sigh that fell from Kurt's mouth. "You're the one hell-bent on getting there on time, so don't pout at me."

He finished dressing quickly and went into the bathroom to make sure his hair was still behaving and pee while Kurt dotted on cologne (Blaine's, but he thought Kurt wore it better) and picked out a bowtie. He was still deciding when Blaine returned and collapsed on the bed to put on his shoes.

"Which one?" Kurt turned to him and held up two options.

"The one in your…left hand." Kurt nodded and returned the other. Hands in his prompted Blaine to stand and then (unprompted) dance to the music still playing.

"Hold still, unless you want to have a lopsided bow," Kurt scolded.

"We both know it would bug you more than it would me." But he stilled, only his hips still moving as practiced fingers danced at his throat, tying a perfect bow, and lingered as they slid down his chest to smooth away imaginary wrinkles. The hand that caught his was shaking slightly. "Kurt?" Blaine asked, worried.

"I'm okay." He didn't look too convinced of his words. He could see Kurt force himself to straighten and mask the apprehension in his eyes and posture. Only the occasional slight tremor and death grip of his hand in Blaine's betrayed him, as if he was pleading with Blaine to please not let go.

He let go of Kurt's hand exactly twice: once to put his wallet in his bag and his phone in his pocket, once to lock the door behind them and put his keys in their designated spot.

Blaine did not let himself worry about the impending dinner on their trip to the Anderson-Genovese headquarters. He kept the conversation light, sticking to subject he knew Kurt liked and picking little arguments to draw Kurt back from behind his shell.

When they were a block away, Kurt tensed up again, as if he knew they were almost there. Blaine steered them out of the center of the sidewalk, turning to face Kurt. "It's going to be alright, Kurt. I'm not going to lie and say you won't get the third degree, but I know that you can do this. They only want the best for me. And once they see that the best for me is you, they'll cool off. I promise."

Kurt smiled weakly and pulled Blaine close, rubbing his nose into Blaine's neck and sighing softly as he soothed small circles into his back. After a minute, Kurt pulled away, his smile more relaxed that time.

"Will doing this make you happy?" he asked, hand coming up to cup Blaine's cheek.

Blaine leaned into the touch. "Yes. You make me happier than I ever remember being, and my family is important to me. I want to show them that."

He let his eyes flutter shut as Kurt leaned in and brushed their lips together, chaste and achingly sweet.

When Kurt finally pulled away, a light blush tinting his cheeks, he smiled confidently at Blaine. "I am as ready as I will ever be. Shall we?"

Blaine leaned in and kissed Kurt's cheek before offering his arm. "Let's go meet my family."

The eerie feeling that they were being watched came back as they approached the house, but Blaine brushed it off as oversensitivity to the presence of security cameras.

The door of the house, plain considering the luxury inside, opened for them as they approached. Blaine nodded to Finn, who was playing doorman that night.

His arm was pulled backwards as Kurt froze in the entry hall and stared around him. Pausing for Kurt to drink in the splendor, Blaine stepped back, tilting his ear up at Kurt's insistence.

"Why didn't you tell me that you're rich? And that you live here?" Kurt hissed in his ear.

"I'm not rich. My family is," Blaine responded. "And…I grew up on the fourth floor, yes." He stepped back to hang up their jackets and his bag.

Whatever Kurt was going to say was interrupted by a loud voice booming from the second floor landing. "BLAINEY AND KURTSIE YOU MADE IT!"

"Hello, Cooper. You saw us earlier today. We said we would come. And so we have." Kurt leveled his stare at Cooper trotting down the stairs.

"True. But can't I show a little excitement for seeing my little bro and his squeeze at the all-important family dinner? That's big."

"And you, Cooper, insisted upon it."

"Doesn't mean it's not momentous." Cooper pointed and waved them into the sitting room to wait for Father to come down from his offices. "Can I offer either of you a drink? We have—"

"Just water for me." Kurt interrupted what would have been a long list.

"Um. Water as well." Somehow, being sober for this seemed like the best option if he couldn't be wasted.

Cooper disappeared to get their drinks, leaving Kurt and Blaine to settle themselves on the couch, close enough that their thighs touched. Blaine rubbed Kurt's knee encouragingly as Cooper reappeared with drinks in hand.

"One for Blainey. One for Kurtsie." He set his own glass down on the coffee table and flopped into a chair. "Father should be down in a few minutes, so the interrogation can wait until then." Kurt shot Blaine a look, and really, Blaine couldn't blame him. At least his brother was blunt? "Until then, how about them Yankees?"

Thankfully, conversation quickly moved away from baseball (something Blaine had never gotten into and Kurt seemed bored with) to movies of all things. Cooper and Kurt were discussing the newest Disney movie, featuring the company's first ever gay prince and his journey to self-acceptance and the approval of his father. Kurt thought it was a good first step. Cooper thought it was too small of a step, but he was glad it happened.

They had turned to Blaine for his opinion, but he was spared by a throat clearing in the doorway. The Anderson brothers jumped to their feet. Kurt was slower to follow, and Blaine could feel his eyes on him, wondering about their behavior. His father turned sharply on his heel and walked out, his sons (and Kurt) dutifully following him into the dining room.

The table was too long for three people, so they sat at one end, Blaine's family across from himself and Kurt. The chef's assistant came in as they sat, bringing the wine chosen for the meal, quickly followed by the first course (after a nod from his father).

"So, Kurt," his father's tone was cool and only mildly inquisitive, "tell us about yourself."

Next to him, Kurt straightened, cleared his throat, and began talking. He finished the basics as the table finished the first course. The first round of plates was swept away and their places promptly filled with the next course.

And then the inquisition started: major and minor in college, details about his job, personal goals and aspirations, dreams when he was little. When Kurt's face betrayed any hint of discomfort at a question, there were follow up questions honing in on that area.

If there could be rape by questions, this would probably come close. Blaine felt violated on Kurt's behalf, and only his brother's subtle head shakes made him swallow the protests rising like bile in the back of his throat.

After one particularly offensive question, the cry of protest fell from his mouth before he could stifle it. His father ignored him, waiting for Kurt's answer in-between bites of their dinner. Cooper's eyes flew to his and a warm hand descended to his knee. Kurt squeezed lightly, reassuring, and answered the question.

When his father seemed satisfied, Cooper took over, returning their conversation to the newest Disney movie as they finished the last bites of their dinner and wine. The plates were again whisked away and dessert and coffee brought back. Blaine interjected a few times, but spent the final course watching his father watch Kurt, trying to decipher the blank mask.

He failed, miserably.

On the bright side, his boyfriend and his brother got along fabulously, nearly as well as he and Kurt did. Which wasn't altogether surprising—after the inquisition was done, Cooper and Kurt relaxed considerably. And when they were both fed and happy after the wine, they kept the bickering to a lighthearted minimum.

"Blaine, could I speak to you in the lounge?" His father's voice cut through his musings.

He threw a glance at Kurt, who looked back and rubbed his knee before nodding that he would be okay talking to Cooper. "Yes, sir."

As requested, he followed his father into the lounge, sitting on the edge of the chair across from him. "Are you serious about this man?" His father's voice was the same nearly-disinterested calm from earlier.

"I am, sir. If I ever marry, it'll be to Kurt."

"You have known him…?"

"Nearly four months, sir." Blaine clasped his hands together to conceal the shaking. He didn't want to have to choose between his family and Kurt.

"Do you love him?"

Part of him wanted to find the nearest roof- or hilltop and scream YES until his voice was hoarse and everyone in the surrounding boroughs knew.

But that would be inappropriate behavior for an Anderson-Genovese.

"Yes."

"And…?" His father waited for the rest of his answer.

"I have not yet told him. Today was the first day we labeled ourselves as being in an official relationship. I considered it to be too much emotion for one day. And I needed to talk to you and Cooper about how much to tell him. Because I cannot justify emotionally tying ourselves together, if he returns the sentiment, without his being fully informed. Of course I…"

"Blaine." His father interrupted his rambling and he flushed and looked down at hands, white knuckled as they clutched at the other.

"Sorry, sir." He knew his voice sounded meek and he hated it. The one time he needed to be in control and an adult in his family's eyes, and he failed.

"Use your discretion, but you are free to tell him what you feel you need to, as long as you are sure that he will not talk."

"No, sir. I don't think he will." Blaine couldn't afford to be sure of much, but he was ninety percent sure Kurt would not tell anyone (that last ten percent held back in the vain effort he could hold anything back from that man).

"Good. Blaine," he looked up at his father, the mask gone and leaving kind eyes he rarely got to see in its place, "I know I just met him, but I can tell he makes you happy. I know that you didn't choose this life, but you have done well in it nonetheless. If you make each other happy, then you have my blessing."

Wetness pricked the corners of his eyes. "Dad…" His voice trailed and broke. His father gave him a moment to collect himself. "Thank you."

"When you're ready, we can go back in there." Blaine nodded and dried his eyes, praying to whatever deity listening that his eyes weren't puffy and red.

Calmed down as much as he would manage—a blessing? He had been expecting a grudging acceptance of something his father didn't think could be changed, not his blessing. He sought his father's eyes and nodded, not trusting his voice quite yet.

He rose when his father did, pausing when his father stopped in the hall, still out of sight of the dining room. He wasn't sure what to expect, but it was not his father pulling him tight and hugging him close. Moments of contact in the Anderson-Genovese household were rare. Hugs almost never happened.

He let himself be held by his dad for a long moment, taking comfort he didn't know he needed.

They separated at the same time. Blaine thought he might have seen his father blink away tears, but he couldn't be sure. He followed again as he was led back into the dining room.

Cooper had moved to Blaine's seat and Kurt's eyes were bright and Cooper's lips tight as they both turned towards the doorway.

"Everything good in here?"

"Yup. We were just discussing Moulin Rouge." Something about the pair made Blaine suspicious, but he didn't press Cooper's explanation.

"Good. If you boys would excuse me, I have some last minute things to clear up." He nodded to each of his sons, but stepped closer to Kurt, hand extended.

The room froze. The shock made Blaine's heartbeat race, thudding loudly in his ears. Kurt moved first. Blaine watched his father and boyfriend shake hands with a "Pleasure to meet you."

Sensing perhaps that Blaine needed to talk to his brother, Kurt excused himself to the bathroom.

"Did you set a tail on Kurt?"

"Right to the point, aren't we Blainey? No 'thank you for forcing us to come to dinner so we can get approval'?"

"Yes, thanks, whatever, Cooper. Did you set a tail on Kurt?"

"Why do you ask?"

"We were followed earlier today. We both felt like we were being watched. And Kurt mentioned having felt that before. And yes, before you ask, this was different from being a normal New Yorker subject to people watching. I know what a tail feels like. And Kurt isn't stupid, as you may have figured."

"In answer to your question"—Cooper leaned against the table, which would have gotten him scolding had their parents been in the room—"Yes. I had set a tail on Kurt. I told them to follow with their discretion. I can ask them later if it would make you feel better, but I won't know until tomorrow."

"Good. Can you…?"

"Call it off? I can change it to protection if you would like. But I don't think I can call it off."

"I…okay. I understand. And if it wasn't our guys tonight, I'd feel better if he was protected." Blaine looked down, hands twisting together before he gave in and wrapped his arms around himself. He was going to do it. He had done it. Kurt was officially a target if anyone wanted to hurt him, hurt the family.

"Blaine, look at me." Cooper had hopped off the table to stand closer to him. Fingers under his chin forced his head up to look at his brother. "I know you're scared for Kurt, for the family, for the slightest possibility for putting us into danger. But danger is part of our lives. It always has been and it always will be. But having someone to share it with? That makes the danger not so bad. Someone who will make you want to come home, to put that hellishly uncomfortable Kevlar on and make it through the day. And that will be worth the danger."

"I…" He hung his head again. He wanted that with Kurt. He hadn't known he did but now he couldn't imagine a life without him in it.

"You're going to need to talk to him."

"I am."

"But not tonight. As your brother, I am saying you deserve tonight as a couple. Ease him into it and give him time to think and ask questions. Father gave you leave to tell him what was necessary."

"And I'm going to need a ring. We're not at the tattoo stage yet, if we ever will be."

"I will get one made. It should be ready by next week."

"Then I'll tell him then."

"Good. I hear your boy in the hall." Kurt appeared seconds later, leaning against the frame and letting the brothers continue their talk.

"Thanks, Coop." Blaine looked up at his brother. Nerves still twisted in his stomach, and he hoped that they would go away long enough for him to enjoy it.

The brothers separated and Kurt extended a hand to Cooper. "Thank you for the invitation..." The rest of his words became an "oof" as Coop pulled him in for a tight hug. He whispered something in Kurt's ear that Blaine couldn't hear. Kurt nodded and hugged back.

Cooper relinquished his hold on Kurt and Blaine took his place, stepping into the circle of his brother's arms. He turned his head and swallowed the lump forming in his throat. "Love you, Coop."

Cooper squeezed him tighter and leaned closer. "Love you too, B."


	8. Part 6a

Even though he had slid the box with the ring into the back of a drawer filled with clothes of his he knew Kurt would never touch, let alone wear, Blaine could still feel its presence as if it were a lead weight pulling him down. Cooper had given it to him, fresh from the jeweler, on Thursday after their meetings. It had taken less than the promised week to craft, and Blaine couldn't decide if that was a good or bad thing.

He had woken up early that morning to make breakfast and to try to wake his brain up enough to tell Kurt everything.

Now that he had the ring, Blaine couldn't justify waiting any longer to himself. In the three days since Coop had handed him the small box the words had been harder and harder to fight. And there was a sourness growing in the pit of his stomach.

He wanted to tell Kurt. It wasn't fair to keep this from him. Any of it.

But telling him would mean he would need to know everything. Friday night (without Kurt at dinner due to work things) had ended with Blaine breaking—it was unfair to Kurt, he deserved to be free to have someone else. Cooper had gotten him calmed back down enough to take the phone away and to reassure him that Kurt obviously loved him and would listen to him.

Blaine knew it would have to be soon.

So, earlier than normal, Blaine had padded into the kitchen to fix breakfast and have a cup of coffee so it would be ready when Kurt would get up. He tried to get his sleep-jumbled into some semblance of an order.

He had not, however, accounted for everything. He had not expected it to happen it the way it did. His goal of making breakfast and thinking did not, no matter how hard he tried, work. He simply was incapable of thinking in the morning past fixing coffee and scrounging up breakfast. Kurt had awoken with the sounds of the coffee pot finishing and swept in, handing Blaine his cup and telling him to sit while he bustled about making breakfast.

Blaine idly stirred his coffee, sitting slumped at the table while Kurt did his Sunday crossword puzzle. Kurt's voice was a pleasant hum in the background—he had long stopped hoping for Blaine's help, but would still talk his way through the puzzle.

Blaine was just…content. He looked at Kurt, hair mussed from sleep, frowning slightly at the crossword in front of him, free hand running up and down the side of his coffee cup. Blaine could feel his love for that man and what they had bubbling up and overflowing, overwhelming and he couldn't remember life before this feeling. He sighed, imagining saying the words. "I love you."

Bright blue eyes snapped to his, questioning and…something else. Oh…oh…oh. Shit. And fuck. And cock. He cleared his throat and breathed deeply, a failed attempt at steadying himself as he answered the question in those piercing eyes. "I love you."

Kurt's face lit up at the repetition, smile uncontained. Paper set down softly, he leaned across the table, taking Blaine's hand between his own. Gently, so gently, as if he thought Blaine would be startled, Kurt lifted his hand in his own to his mouth, brushing his lips across Blaine's knuckles. Blinking blankly, heart pounding in his ears, Blaine searched Kurt's face. A flush pinked his cheeks, a happy brightness in his eyes. He took a deep breath and Blaine breathed with him, waiting for his response. "I…I love you too. I am not just saying it because you did. I, Kurt Hummel, love you, Blaine Anderson."

Unbidden guilt wrenched at his insides, twisting painfully.

He didn't doubt Kurt. Blaine was petrified that Kurt would take his words and run when he learned the whole truth of Blaine. He wouldn't fault him. But he would grieve.

And he had to offer Kurt the chance to leave.

"Before you say that, Kurt…I have something I need to tell you." He swallowed thickly around the lump in his throat.

"Blaine." He lowered their still-clasped hands to the table, squeezing reassuringly. "There is nothing save your being a serial killer that will change how I feel about you." Blaine felt his heart drop. It must have shown on his face because Kurt squeezed his hand again as he continued, voice a little higher than this time. "And even then, as long as you don't tell me where the bodies are buried, I won't turn you in."

Blaine closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, trying to center himself for what he had to say next. "How much do you know about Cosa Nostra?"

Kurt frowned, obviously confused. "Um. Very little. It's the Sicilian Mafia in America, led by five central families." Blaine snuck another peek at Kurt's face, still twisted with confusion. "But I don't understand…"

"Do you…fuck…do you know the names of the families?"

"Not off the top of my head, but I might recognize them. Blaine?" Kurt looked a little wan and Blaine didn't feel much better. The bottom of his stomach felt like it had run off with his heart.

"Anderson is my mother's maiden name. My father's last name is Genovese." He pulled his hands back to mask the shaking, giving himself a moment to muster the courage to look at Kurt.

"So that makes you…?"

"Third in command of the Genovese family. And…I won't blame you if you decide it's too much and you want out. I'm not going to stop you from leaving." Blaine could feel his heart breaking as he offered the option. "But if you ever felt a fraction of what I feel for you please don't run to the cops. Don't tell anyone."

"Do you…" Kurt's voice was high and small, unsure and Blaine saw tears to match his own in Kurt's eyes. "Do you want me to go? Then why did you…"

"FUCK." The chair clattered to the floor as Blaine stood up too quickly, running his fingers roughly through his hair. "I'm doing this all wrong." He wasn't aware that he was moving until he was in front of his dresser, throwing clothes out until his hand closed around the box.

Kurt, a pale specter in the door, stepped aside and followed where Blaine led to the couch. "Blaine, honey, I need you to breathe." Kurt spoke calmly and softly, somehow still in control. "Can you breathe with me?" Blaine realized dimly that his breath was coming in short pants, quickly approaching hyperventilation. The part of him that was convinced Kurt wouldn't leave him wanted to congratulate him for trying to get him to breathe again. The part that wasn't convinced wished Kurt would leave him to pass out so he could not be aware while he gathered his things and left.

When his breathing had steadied he turned to face Kurt. "I am the consigliore of the Genovese crime family. My father and brother are boss and underboss respectively. I was told to be careful of who I love because loving me can be a death sentence. I was never going to fall in love. And then I met you. And I love you." The lump in his throat grew as he unclenched his fist from the box. "And, even knowing all of that and what it could mean for you, if you still want to be with me, I'd like for you to wear this."

The box flipped open easily, revealing the plain black ring. "It's a family ring." Kurt took the box from his hands, something flickering across his face, too fast for Blaine to read. "Just like being with me, it's a double edged sword, making you a target and keeping you safe." He struggled to swallow around the tightness and the lump. "But I'd like you to."

Kurt was silent, turning the ring around in his hands, that emotion flashing across his face again.

"Please…" His voice cracked over the word. He hated how pitiful he sounded, desperate for any answer. It was as if he was holding out his heart in his hands, offering it to Kurt. And in a way he was. He felt his hands and his bottom lip shake because he had never been more scared. He knew that Kurt is it for him and he was just giving Kurt what is already his—this just made it visible.

Silent seconds marked by the clock on the wall ticked by and Blaine found himself praying that Kurt wouldn't break him because he could. There would be no next love for him. If Kurt didn't want his heart it wouldn't matter much. It wouldn't be good to anyone after this love. In a way, then, he has nothing to lose.

And yet, as a minute of silence passed, it felt like he could lose everything. "Please. Answer me. Tell me you still want me or tell me you don't and you'll never hear from me again. But please say something."

Blaine's heart stopped as, in measured movements, Kurt met his eyes, slid the ring onto his finger, and set the box down. Still moving slowly, which was good for Blaine, who couldn't believe his eyes, Kurt turned on the couch to face him. Blaine fought the urge to close his eyes as a hand cupped his face. "The man who plays the piano or the man in the Mafia, I don't care. I love you both ways, no matter what." Crowding into Blaine's personal space, Kurt threw his arms around him, pulling him in tight.

The sob that Blaine had been trying to hold back burst from him, a pure release of all the pent up emotion he'd been carrying with him. Kurt loved him. He would have sung if it hadn't been for the tears and sobs clogging his throat. He settled on clutching Kurt tightly to him, the life preserver keeping him afloat.

Their combined breath matched and slowed, until they had relaxed into each other. Feeling steady enough to sit slightly separated from Kurt, he pulled back. Kurt met his watery smile with one of his own.

His. The beautiful, amazing man sitting next to him was his. And he was someone's. They had done the possessive/you're-finally-mine-so-I'm-going-to-mar k-you sex the week before. But this? This was different. This was more than he had ever felt at once.

Laughing, probably nearing hysterics, Blaine captured Kurt's lips with his own. The kiss was sweet and wet and perfect. Still reeling from the emotional whiplash, he pulled Kurt in closer, guiding him to perch astride his hips. Seemingly automatically, Kurt's arms draped themselves over Blaine's shoulders, fingers toying with the curls at the nape of his neck and sending pleasant shivers down his spine.

His own fingers tightened their gasp of Kurt's hips when a shy tongue traced his bottom lip. Kurt's moan reverberated through him, becoming his own when he opened to Kurt. Their tongues met and twined languidly.

Some minutes in, Kurt's hand slid down Blaine's chest, catching on a nipple before moving lower to rest and rub over his tattoo. His mouth followed suit, nipping and sucking at Blaine's pulse. One particularly hard suck made Blaine's hips buck off the couch and into Kurt, causing both to groan low for a whole new reason.

While still slow, the kisses and touches turned hotter, more hungry. Blaine dragged Kurt back to him, their mouths meeting already open. Blaine let Kurt control the kiss, muffled groans trying to be heard as Kurt licked across the roof of his mouth, pulled back to nip at his lips, before diving back in, all while lazily grinding his hips into Blaine's.

Their breath was coming in short pants when Kurt sat back, tracing designs on Blaine's chest and rested their foreheads together. The eyes that met his were lust-blown and full of love.

Somehow, Blaine found his voice, rough and wrecked already. "Make me yours, please. I've been my family's for so long I want to be yours and only yours."

Kurt was already nodding before he finished, swallowing Blaine's words as their lips met again and again. "You're mine and I'm yours." Blaine nodded quickly before he could stop himself, blushing at Kurt's chuckle. Kurt's nose rubbed his before he sat up straighter. "I love you, from the top of your head"—he dotted a kiss there—"to the bottoms of your feet,"—his jaw dropped as Kurt twisted to tickle there—"and everything in between, all that you are and all that you have been and can be, with all that I am and with all the love that I have to give."

The tears Blaine had finally gotten under control leaked out again, sliding silently down his face. Kurt leaned in and kissed each away. Blaine's heart pounded with the realization of what he was going to ask. "Show me?" His voice was small and pleading, hoping desperately Kurt would be strong enough for the both of them.

Kurt smiled at him, warm hands on Blaine's face tilting up to meet Kurt's. Warm and sweet and still damp from their tears. Blaine relaxed and breathed into Kurt, letting him take over. Kurt explored Blaine's mouth and Blaine let him, pliant under him. Heat, low embers ready to be kindled into life, moved through Blaine everywhere Kurt touched. There was no urgency in his hands or his mouth, and Blaine was happy to let Kurt do as he wished at his own pace. If Kurt wanted slow, Blaine wanted slow.

A whimper fell from his mouth when Kurt drew back and stood up, tugging Blaine up with him. "Please." Blaine didn't know what he was asking for, but Kurt might so he asked without thinking.

"Shhh. I've got you." Kurt led the way back into Blaine's bedroom, ignoring the clothes strewn over the floor to settle Blaine on the bed.

Blaine sighed as Kurt covered him, weight resting off of him, the kissing continuing from where they had left it on the couch. Easing them both into it, the kisses turned dirtier and needier without Blaine noticing until his hands were fisted hard in Kurt's shirt and Kurt was biting insistently at his lips. The embers under his skin sparked brighter and hotter every time and everywhere Kurt touched him.

A switch flipped in him, the need coming full force when Kurt coaxed Blaine's tongue into his own mouth and then sucked, a pull he could feel from his now fully hard length straining at his boxers. Kurt sucked again and ground down against Blaine where he could feel an answering hardness.

Blaine didn't want the emotions he was feeling, the ones that had brought tears to his eyes and a quaver to his lip. Those hurt, the intensity all-consuming, filling him up and swallowing him whole. He suddenly wanted nothing more than to rut against each other to escape those emotions, frotting and coming in their underwear like teens, but Kurt was having none of that. Easing off, he changed tactics and seemed hell-bent on making Blaine endure them, forcing him to walk through the (hopefully) cathartic fire.

"Uh-uh. You want to feel cherished and mine. I am doing this my way. Can you lay still or do you need me to tie you down?" The question was asked half-teasing, but the suggestion still send a current down his body, eyes rolling into the back of his head and a soft moan breaking free.

"No. Wait. Before you lay down…" Hands on his sides urged him off the bed long enough to strip free his shirt. Above him, Kurt groaned and Blaine flushed at the attention. "Blaine, you are gorgeous." He wasn't. He was fit, but he wouldn't call himself gorgeous. Starting at his temple and working his way down, Kurt kissed and nuzzled every newly revealed bit of Blaine, sucking lightly on fingers and pulse points before kissing them, murmuring praise about Blaine. Each new brush of lips against his overheating skin sent a trickle of heat to pool at the base of his spine and another drop of unadulterated feeling to join the others. Blaine could only lay there and whimper and he was fine with that.

At the back of his mind, creeping steadily forward with each word and kiss from Kurt's mouth, those emotions he would rather smother surged forward before cresting.

And all of the physical—the sparks of arousal from the kisses and Kurt's hard length pressing against his thigh—was eclipsed by the feelings of love and being cherished pouring onto him. Each brush of skin on skin was nice and pleasant and he knew he was aroused, but it didn't seem as important as Kurt and him, each other's finally. Not as important as being accepted despite his family baggage. Not as important as being accepted for just being himself, no pretenses or falsehoods.

Kurt undressed them both with the same care, humming praise as he licked over Blaine, sending more shivers up and down his spine, and then shifted them up the bed. He whimpered when Kurt left him panting for a moment before returning with the necessary supplies. The bottle clicked open and they both groaned as slick fingers stroked and teased the tight ring, easing Blaine open.

Their mouths found each other again, kissing deep and slow, Blaine's breath hitching and sighing as another finger gained entrance. As the burn faded he whimpered for more and Kurt obliged, tongue and fingers moving in synch, crooking and seeking until Blaine broke the kiss to cry out.

A finger later, Blaine nodded at Kurt, who shifted them again, sitting upright against the headboard and reaching for the foil wrapper carelessly dropped on the bed.

"Can we..not? I want to feel you. Just you." Blaine didn't think he had ever needed anything more than he needed that, to remove that last barrier between them. Blaine's mouth went dry when Kurt nodded and dropped the condom, hissing as he slicked himself up with the cold lube.

When Kurt was ready, Blaine settled himself in his lap, holding Kurt's length steady as he lowered himself down slowly, relishing the burn of the stretch until he was fully seated. Kurt was burning inside him, the lack of latex more pronounced than he would have expected. It was personal in a way he couldn't have prepared himself for and that brought unbidden tears to his eyes.

How could anyone think this was wrong or dirty or shameful? The feeling of Kurt inside him, surrounding him with arms and lips and love? That couldn't be dirty. It was beautiful. It was love.

Tenderly, Blaine kissed Kurt as he started to move, heart aching. He wanted this forever. He would never want anything else if he could always feel this. Strong arms hugged him closer, pressing him against Kurt's chest, broad and warm and sweat-slick. Hands, a firm, grounding touch, rubbed wide circles on his back and sides, keeping him as close as possible.

They traded "I love you"s as Blaine's rocking picked up speed, a hand snaking between their torsos to stroke where Blaine rested hard and heavy between them. Kurt mouthed hot kisses along Blaine's arched neck as his hand twisted under the crown, Blaine keening brokenly as Kurt murmured his love into Blaine's neck.

Urging Kurt back up, Blaine cupped Kurt's cheek with one hand and let the other wander aimlessly, running over slick skin and muscle, drawing his own curses and shivers. The endearments were broken by pants and kisses as they moved faster, urging themselves towards the edge.

One last "I'm yours" pushed Blaine over. He cried out, clutching at every part of Kurt he was touching, spilling between them as Kurt stilled under him. Hot, wet, intimate, Kurt pulsed inside him, breath catching in his throat as his hips thrust up weakly and nails bit into Blaine's back.

This was love, sharing yourself with someone so completely, letting yourself fall and knowing that you'll be caught. His eyes were wet again and he could feel the tears leaving tracks down his face but he didn't care anymore. He lifted his hand to Kurt's cheek and wiped away the tears, smiling in answer to Kurt's. Kurt did the same to him, watery smiles and uneven breaths shared. They met each other's lips in the middle, both having moved at the same time. Even the tongue that slipped in at the end was so light and loving it hurt.

The stickiness eventually became too much, and gentle hands eased Blaine over to lay on his side and he watched Kurt get up, eyes tracking his movements to the bathroom and back, damp washcloth in his hands. He hadn't been worried that Kurt wouldn't return. The tears and love in his eyes matched Blaine's. With the same tenderness, Kurt wiped them both clean and set the washcloth aside.

Blaine clung to Kurt when he returned, entwining their bodies until it was hard to tell where one ended and the other began. Head pillowed on Kurt's chest with Kurt's arms wrapping him tightly, Blaine whispered one word as he drifted off, hearing the same in response and feeling the kiss on his head just before sleep took him.

"Yours."


	9. Part 6b

The afternoon sun streamed through Blaine's window to pool on the chest his head was still pillowed on. Beneath him, still clutching Blaine to himself, Kurt slept on, chest rising and falling and heart beating strong under Blaine's ear. Their legs were as entwined as they had been then they had collapsed. Blaine straddled a lean thigh, his own knee intimately pressed into the delicate skin of Kurt's inner thigh.

Blaine let himself drift in the twilight between waking and sleep, Kurt shifting as Blaine nuzzled, his scruff rubbing at the sparse smattering of hair dusted across Kurt's chest. He could feel his eyelashes, clumped from dried tears brushing soft skin and a soreness between his legs, physical reminders of the last few hours. Moving slowly after Kurt had resettled himself, Blaine turned his head to press a light kiss on Kurt's chest. When he didn't stir further, Blaine shifted, easing himself further down the bed, leaving a trail of kisses down Kurt's torso.

Muscles tensed under his tongue as Blaine lapped at Kurt's navel before nipping lightly at the thin skin over his lowest rib. Kurt grumbled and Blaine smiled mid-kiss, deciding on the best way to start (restart?) their day. He trailed kisses lower, lingering over his favorite spot at the crease of Kurt's thigh. Kisses peppered the soft skin, light dots before Blaine paused and nuzzled, enjoying the feel of the heat of Kurt's skin against his cheek. He nuzzled closer and inhaled a deep sigh, the intoxicating mix of clean sweat, sex, and a spicy musk he had learned was pure Kurt.

Still asleep, Kurt mumbled and wiggled slowly, softly sighing, his legs falling open wider when Blaine urged them apart to settle himself between them. He breathed deep and rubbed his cheek against the soft skin of Kurt's inner thigh in a way that made Kurt shudder and keen and sent tremors down his own spine. He pressed his lips, hot and open, against the base of Kurt's half-hard erection. The half-awake hiss from above him registered only as an exhale and he continued, lips open and sucking gently at the base, breaking off for him to nuzzle again. "Owowow. Blaine. Blaine. Fuck. Stop."

Hands gripped his shoulders painfully and pushed him back, sending him tumbling to the floor in a puddle of sheets. "Fuck. What?"

"Scruff, Blaine. Scruff. On my fucking dick."

Blaine, still sitting on the floor where he had fallen, met Kurt's glare, so serious against the sleep and sex rumpled hair and general disheveled appearance, and couldn't contain the laughter bubbling in his throat. Moments later he was bent double, clutching his side and laughing hysterically. He managed to see Kurt crawl down the bed to look at him through tearing eyes as he gasped and tried to regain control. Kurt cocked an eyebrow and Blaine lost all progress, giving himself over to the full-body cackling. Perched above him, Kurt cocked an eyebrow at him. Blaine tried to speak and failed, holding an arm out to Kurt instead. One good yank brought Kurt tumbling down next to him and the laughing became painful, Kurt's high laugh joining as they clutched themselves and periodically attempted words.

Breathing under some amount of control, Kurt smiled at him through his own heaved breaths. Reaching out, Blaine cupped Kurt's face in his hands and drew them together, mumbling "I love you" just before their lips met, Kurt pursing his own in time. It was gentle, sweet, short, and utterly perfect.

Their lips met again and again and with each one Blaine relaxed a little more into Kurt's tight embrace. Just as the brush of lips started to lengthen and deepen, the heady rush as Kurt's tongue delved and explored the familiar recesses of Blaine's mouth sending pricklings of heated electricity up and down his skin and spine, Kurt pulled back, laughing as Blaine leaned in to follow his lips. Blaine blushed and looked down—it wasn't anything new how much Blaine wanted Kurt even now.

"Put the puppy away." Kurt grasped his chin lightly, thumb dragging over the problematic scruff. "I have plans, dear. And you will like them, I promise." His tone was a sensual purr Blaine would swear he could feel washing over him. "I want…" He trailed off, seemingly momentarily lost for words as he stared into Blaine's eyes, leaving them both more bared than the lack of clothes did. "I need you to show me I'm yours." He leaned in closer, straddling Blaine's hips, hovering so the only touch was Kurt's breath against Blaine's ear. "I want you to take me apart, until I am begging for more. I want you to make me hang there until I am sobbing and writhing. And then I want you to do it again."

The gears in his head spun madly, trying to find traction as waves of lust clouded his thoughts. Kurt moved in closer, lips against the shell of Blaine's ear a point of fiery contact, his voice gravelly and deep, "I want you to make me fall apart with you over me and in me. I want you to make me yours." Blaine could only blink at him as his brain again, his swiftly hardening length against his thigh, pulling up to tent the sheets barely covering him his reaction.

Kurt smiled at him and gave him an Eskimo kiss that did not fit the situation but fit Kurt. Blaine sat dumbstruck while Kurt neatly, gracefully, levered himself up and walked to the bathroom and swallowed hard when Kurt let his hips sway just that much more than normal. When his brain caught up to the implication lacing Kurt's desires, his jaw dropped open.

One night, when they were both tipsy on good wine and lounging on the couch too wrapped in each other to be comfortable but Blaine hadn't wanted to move despite the combined heat of their bodies, they had exchanged what made them fall apart the most completely. Kurt…Kurt said slow edging and rimming until he was so open and slick lube was almost irrelevant. Of course they hadn't made it that far that night, indulging Blaine's love of riding Kurt hard on the couch instead.

"You coming?" Kurt smiled at him from the bathroom door.

"Not yet." Blaine made sure to keep his face as innocent as he could as he joined Kurt in the bathroom. Kurt was warm and perfect when he pressed himself against his front, kissing the side of his neck as Kurt's hands skated over his back, the curve of his ass, and back again, leaving tendrils of arousal to snake between his legs.

At some point their lips found each other and they kissed lazily, kisses simply for the enjoyment of kissing as the water for their shower heated up. The air was filling rapidly with steam when they broke, resting their foreheads together. "I love you." The words fell neatly off his tongue, floating up and around them with the steam.

Lips brushed his temple, then his nose, before Kurt response made him feel like he could fly. "I love you too."

With no plans other than enjoying each other's bodies and basking in their love of each other, they took their time in the shower. Blaine moaned, porn-star loud, when Kurt's hands wove through his hair, massaging thick shampoo suds through his hair. "You okay over there?" Kurt's eye brow was cocked and he was teasing, pressing in just the right places on Blaine's scalp to earn another moan instead of words. It just felt so good and Kurt knew it and Blaine knew that he would get his own chance at melting Kurt into a puddle of goo with just a scalp massage.

The last sight before he closed his eyes as Kurt pushed him under the spray of the showerhead was Kurt's eyes, as blue as shallow water on a sunny day.

And then it was his turn. Hair suitably wet, Kurt spun out of the spray and stood with his legs spread just enough for Blaine to be able to read the top of his head without reaching too much. His hair is soft and ridiculously thick between Blaine's fingers as he worked the lather through. Paying particular attention to one spot earned Blaine a whimper and then a groan that was swallowed as Blaine stepped around and between Kurt's legs and their lips found each other.

Still kissing, Blaine guided them slowly back under the water, breaking apart so they wouldn't inhale water and suds as he wove his fingers again and again through the thick locks.

The same process repeated, conditioner worked through with the other's skillful fingers and rinsed out and Blaine was overheating, the billows of steam and Kurt pushed it deliciously to the wrong side of comfortable. Kurt grabbed the loofah and pour on body wash, the suds looking sinful as he worked the lather up. Lips brushed against his own once before Kurt focused his attention on bathing Blaine, moving the loofah in neat, even circles, free hand catching purposefully on erogenous spots. Feeling loose and happy and loved under the attention, Blaine tracked Kurt's moves until his eyes rolled up and his head dropped back, Kurt's hand sudsy and washing his more intimately than anyone else had, thorough and delicate and Blaine felt another rush of emotion for this man swell in him.

Hands moving with a confidence born only of familiarity, Kurt moved Blaine back under the water, hands chasing the water and suds down his body and Blaine let himself be maneuvered, content to just feel for the moment. He'd get his chance to be more active and take care of Kurt soon enough.

That chance came when Kurt handed the loofah to him, still sudsy. He took his time, scrubbing along the lines of muscle, tracing them with the fingertips of his other hand. He spent a bit of time on Kurt's back, moaning along with Kurt as he worked at the persistent knot in his shoulder, moving on and down to the perfect globes of his ass. Holding his tenuous control tightly (he had plans, damn it) Blaine refused to watch the slide of suds down and over Kurt's ass and thighs and kept his hips far enough away from Kurt's body so his steadily hardening erection did not brush against anything but air.

Kurt's eyes were dark when Blaine met his gaze, standing on tip toe to graze his lips to the underside of Kurt's jaw then refocusing on the feel of suds covered skin as smooth as marble, brushing over the bump of Kurt's collarbone and then down, following the lines of suds. Kurt exhaled a long hiss as Blaine brushed his hand down his chest, whimpering when he doubled back to rub his thumb over his nipples, Blaine feeling Kurt's gaze hot on him as he watched the pink skin pebble and harden under the attention, his mouth both parched and watering as Kurt's body reacting to his touch.

"Blaine…" Though they hadn't really touched Kurt's voice sounded wrecked, and Blaine met his eyes and took it has his cue to speed up his bathing of Kurt. Soon swirls of suds dripped down the long lines of Kurt's body and Blaine was kneeling on the hard tile to wash Kurt's legs, picking his feet up and smiling when Kurt laughed at the tickle, kissing the inside of his knee before working his way back up, leaving streaks of lather in his wake.

Kurt stepped obligingly under the water, wringing the loofah out, panting as Blaine chased the suds down his body. Ignoring the possibility of drowning in the spray, Blaine stepped in close and kissed Kurt hard, feeling Kurt's mouth open for him when he nipped at his bottom lip and moaning in unison as their tongues met.

The water went cool against their heated skin and they pulled apart wordlessly, Blaine watching Kurt turn off the water and lead the way out of the shower. Toweling each other off, they exchanged murmured sweet nothings, kissing lightly every few compliments.

Kurt tied Blaine's towel around his waist before doing his own and steering him to face the mirror. "Shave, please. I'd rather not have beard burn anywhere your mouth is about to be."

Blaine made sure Kurt held his gaze in the mirror before speaking, able to see Kurt flush down to his chest at his next words. "You sure about that? You don't normally mind it, that little bit of scratching on the inside of your thighs when my fingers are fucking deep inside you." Not really caring either way, Blaine reached for the can of shaving cream and started to fill the sink with water. "And didn't you say I get to do whatever I want to you today? I believe your words were that you wanted to feel like you were mine."

"Mmm. And I do. Over and over again. I also want you to shave."

Blaine stuck his tongue out at Kurt and received a kiss to the shoulder blade. Blaine finished shaving and they brushed their teeth together in their annoyingly domestic way, standing next to each other with toothpaste foam leaking out of the corners of their mouths, which should have made them both giggle like sixteen year olds but they didn't. Blaine couldn't stop the smile when their toothbrushes sat next to each other, where he hoped he would always see them.

"Now, give me ten minutes and I will join you." Kurt looked meaningfully at him and Blaine caught on, blushing lightly. Most of the time they were comfortable enough with sex getting messy. But sometimes, like that day, Kurt wanted to be cleaner for their activities, cementing in his implied request for the afternoon's festivities.

Blaine hung his towel up and wandered into the bedroom, swaying his hips a little too much to imagined music. The door clicked shut behind him. He amused himself with turning on Kurt's favorite playlist and stretching out on the bed. His knee crooked up and out, baring himself to the closed bathroom door and stroked lightly, fingertips skimming over his essentially soft length, working himself up and teasing himself, palming lightly over the head and ghosting down the side, his other hand moving to cup his balls, moaning at the contact.

The ten minutes passed without notice, Blaine palming himself only enough to stay hard, a touch that was more tease than pleasure. The bathroom door creaked open and Kurt paused in the doorway, eyes obviously taking in the sight of Blaine stretched out and waiting for him on the bed.

"Blaine Anderson, I don't think I tell you enough." Kurt stalked over to the bed, the swing of his hips and the glint in his eyes predatory. "But you are fucking gorgeous." He crawled up the bed, eyes not leaving Blaine's until they were nose to nose, Kurt hovering over Blaine.  
Stretched out on top of Blaine, pressing hard but not enough, Blaine felt Kurt brace himself before rolling Blaine over on top of him, both exhaling harshly at the new contact (Blaine wasn't holding himself off of Kurt as Kurt had been).

Slowly, making sure that the move was okay with Kurt, Blaine shifted up to his knees and spread Kurt's arms up until they grazed the headboard. "This okay?" Kurt, eyes glazing over, hummed and nodded fervently. "Good. No touching. You'll get to touch me later. Certainly no touching yourself." He leaned in, lips brushing Kurt's mouth, "I want you to come again and again because of me. Make all the noise you want, but I am going to take my time with you." Kurt shuddered under him, but gripped the edge of the headboard obligingly.

Blaine sat up fully, taking in the sight of Kurt spread out, panting and waiting under him, his own cock twitching at the vision. Top down would be easiest, he decided. Shifting up, Blaine kissed each of Kurt's temples, the space right under his ear, the scar on his neck. When his lips touched Kurt's throat under his jaw he whimpered. "Blaine. Kiss me. Please."

"Shhh. I will, caro. Just let me." Kurt tasted like clean soap over that spiciness that was him as he worked a mark into his collarbone. "Fuck. Blaine. Please kiss me." Giving into the wrecked pleas, Blaine met Kurt's lips, grinning when Kurt arched up under him as if trying desperately to find some relief. He lifted himself up too far for Kurt to reach. "If you're having this many problems remembering instructions before we have even started will you last?"

"Fuck you."

He hummed against Kurt's pulse point, biting lightly. "You'll know when we get there, caro."

"Fine." Kurt visibly gritted his teeth, spitting out the words. "Fuck me."

"Still not gonna tell. Uh-uh." Blaine sing-songed. Kurt wasn't actually angry, just horny. "Hands on the headboard until I tell you, got it?"  
Kurt growled at him, sending his best bitch glare at Blaine who laughed and kissed over his heart. "I've got you. Just let me enjoy you."  
Blaine got a huff in return, but Kurt returned his hands to the headboard and looked up at the ceiling, petulant. "Thank you, caro." Blaine kissed Kurt swiftly before returning to where he had left off, using the already drying marks from his mouth as a placeholder.

Starting with the mark on Kurt's collarbone, already deepening to a delicious purple, Blaine continued his exploration. Just as Kurt had earlier that morning (had it really only been a few hours ago?) murmured words of praise and love between kisses and nibbles. Under him, Kurt followed his instructions and his only movements were the moans falling from his half-open mouth, the tightening of muscle under Blaine's tongue, and the twisting of his hips when Blaine laved attention on a particularly sensitive spot.

Bypassing Kurt's length, hardened and dripping onto his stomach, Blaine kissed his way down Kurt's hip and thigh, rubbing fingers through the hair dusting the tops of his thighs, short licks and nuzzles against the insides in his knees and ankles. All the while, a seemingly endless stream of nonsense spilled from Kurt, voice high and breathless with need, hands gripping the headboard hard and causing the muscles of his pecs and arms stand out.

Slowly, a speed he imagined would be nothing short of maddening for Kurt, Blaine worked his way back up to his favorite spot on Kurt's hip. Clean shaven as he was, he wouldn't run into the same problems as he had earlier, a fact he took advantage of, rubbing his nose against the junction of Kurt's hip, brushing occasionally against the base of Kurt's cock and feeling the muscles of Kurt's stomach tense at the contact. "Blaine…" A hoarse whisper fell amid the high whimpers and Blaine maneuvered so he could meet Kurt's eyes. The sight of Kurt's length between them and his eyes blown wide with need sparked fire down his own spine and ignited the pooling heat at the base of his spine.

Kurt bucked hard into him when he licked him from base to tip, swirling his tongue around the crown before sucking once, hard. The pop as Kurt's length dropped from his mouth was wet and sinful, equal to the pitiful whine from Kurt at the loss of the first relief he had had.  
"Shh, caro." Blaine scooted back up the bed, Kurt's eyes dark and glazed from being denied, knuckles white against the dark wood of the headboard.

"Please, Blaine. Please." His voice was strained and high, so very close to begging.

"What do you need, Kurt?" Blaine smoothed the sweat-slick locks back from Kurt's forehead, leaning down to press a kiss to his temple.

"Something, anything. Just touch me."

Feeling like teasing, Blaine ran a hand down Kurt's chest, circling a nipple before coming back up as he responded. "I am, my love."

"More. Please Blaine. I need more."

Blaine ducked again, lowering himself slowly on top of Kurt to kiss him, languid and deep, both of them sighing happily as their lips and tongues met. Blaine let Kurt control the kiss and take out some of the frustration he was feeling (Blaine held his hips just out of Kurt's reach). Each swipe and twist of Kurt's tongue in his mouth, each scrape of teeth and capture of Blaine's lip between Kurt's sent another stream of white hot fire coursing down his spine until he wanted nothing more than to lower his hips so they could rut against each other.

He took the opportunity presented when they finally had to break for air to kiss his way back down Kurt's chest, stopping to deepen the mark on his collarbone and start one just above the cut of his hip, where it could only be covered by a shirt.

Blaine, settled between Kurt's legs, rested his chin and tapped Kurt's thigh to get his attention.

"What?"

"You can let go of the headboard now."

"Can I?" Kurt would have hated how pitifully needy his voice sounded any other, not lust-clouded moment.

"Yes, caro. You can touch me. But no touching yourself. Me or the bed." Kurt's hands dropped to the bed, fisting in the sheets.

Ready to move Kurt into the best position, inspiration made its way through Blaine's lust-fogged brain. "I need you to roll over for me, caro."  
Whimpering softly, obviously knowing what would come next, Kurt flopped over onto his stomach, humping against the sheets and sighing with obvious relief. "Uh-uh, Kurt. That counts as touching yourself."

"Blaine."

"Up on your knees. You asked for this. And you'll get it. But by my hands, not yours. You're mine, caro, right?"

Kurt turned his head, nodding, and settled into the position they had used before, high enough up on his knees that the head of his cock didn't touch the sheets, back arched and knees wide enough that he was completely bared before Blaine.

A contented sigh whooshed out of their mouths at the same time as Blaine dragged his hand down Kurt's back and brushed his lips over Kurt's shoulder. Contorting a little, Blaine met Kurt's lips, face half-smushed in the bed but perfect nevertheless. Kurt's back was smooth and warm under his hands, tracing up and down the lines of muscle as his tongue darted out in each open mouthed kiss pressed to each knob of Kurt's spine.

He pressed his fingers into the dimples at the base of Kurt's spine, hands fitting more perfectly that he could have believed. Kurt moaned, muffled slightly by his arms, as Blaine dipped his thumbs lower, massaging and pulling. The moan became a quick gasp as Blaine's thumbs moved even further, exposing Kurt's entrance and Blaine nearly growled at the sight, pink and tight ring quivering under his gaze.

There was a rustling of sheets as Kurt fisted his hands harder and arched his back more, inviting Blaine to taste.

Blaine pressed a soft kiss to the back of Kurt's thigh, relishing the sound of disappointment from him as he settled himself between Kurt's thighs. Giving in to Kurt's whined please, he licked a broad stripe from the space behind Kurt's balls up over his entrance. Swirling the tip of his tongue around the ring, twitching as if to grab his tongue and pull it inside.

"Relax for me, Kurt." He grabbed a quick break as Kurt sighed out the tension. Mouth closed in an open kiss over Kurt's entrance, Blaine hummed his approval, tracing small circles around the rim.

Kurt's soft pants, high whimpered exhales. sent pinpricks of arousal to Blaine's erection. It took all of his willpower to keep himself from rubbing against the bed for the tiniest bit of relief. After a few licks across Kurt's entrance, Blaine felt him relax the tight ring, allowing his tongue to probe inside. Saliva, pooled in the dip of his curled tongue helped him ease Kurt open , spread over the slowly relaxing rim before sliding down Blaine's chin and Kurt's perineum. He kept alternating, never doing the same thing for long enough that Kurt could get used to it, until one last breath puffed hot over the now slick pucker drew a needy whine: Kurt was ready for more.

Stiffening his tongue and easing it in, humming as he felt Kurt bear down enough to let him in, Blaine moaned. Kurt was so very tight around him, the combination of clean soap and his own spiciness and that darker earth underneath and the feel of the muscle clenching around his tongue as if to keep him there made him want to snake a hand under himself and stroke the three times it would take to have him fall over the edge. Instead, Blaine redoubled his focus on Kurt, fucking his tongue into him, the saliva dripping between them, messy and heady.

Kurt found his words again, breaking through the stream of babble and whined pants. "More...Blaine." Blaine lifted his head, kissing the curve of his ass and taking in Kurt, hands clenching and unclenching in the sheets, back tense, and hole just winking open and slick. "Please." Kurt had turned his head, still resting on the bed to look at Blaine. Cheeks and the tips of his ears flushed, lips swollen from where he had been biting them, hair mussed from the shower and being ground into the bed, all covered in a light sheen of sweat, not yet beading but glittering in the light. He looked absolutely beautiful, wrecked with need and hazy with desire.

Kurt whined again as Blaine took his time to settle, nipping the curve where thigh met ass and wrapping his arms around him again, fingers reaching to hold the soft globes of Kurt's ass apart. In this position Kurt could still only hump the air, which he did, arching his back and pushing back towards Blaine as if to entice him back.

"I'm getting there, caro. I'm going to enjoy you at my own pace."

The tight ring fluttered under his tongue, clenching down again as soon as Blaine's tongue was close enough as if to keep him in place, the move sending more arousal to pool between his own legs. It was tricky—adjusting pulled on his wrists, but Blaine managed to get a finger next to his mouth, stroking the muscle gripping him tightly until the fluttering slowed until his tongue and finger could move in tandem, fucking in slow and shallow.

Kurt's hips, which had settled to doing aborted circles in time with Blaine's thrusts, stuttered as he canted them back as his spine bowed.  
"No coming yet, Kurt. I'm not done." He had barely done anything yet, but after his emotional break earlier, he couldn't blame Kurt for being on edge. At the head of the bed Kurt grunted his assent, knuckles stark white against the navy sheets. Not pausing his tongue's movements, Blaine withdrew his finger and changed position to one that allowed him to push two fingers in, going in to the first knuckle easily. He slowed, giving Kurt time to breathe through the added stretch, waiting for his cue to continue.

Three breaths later, Kurt nodded and Blaine slid his fingers home, mouth watering and erection jerking hard as he watched his fingers disappear into Kurt. Tortuously slowly, he stretched, scissored, and thrust. Every few fucks in he would let the saliva pool on his tongue to smear around and in Kurt's entrance, slicking but still dragging to let Kurt feel every movement of Blaine's hands and tongue.

Blaine whined, confused as suddenly the ass under his tongue and fingers was moving away from him. Kurt didn't say anything, just tossed the bottle of lube over his shoulder and settled back into position, thrusting his ass back into Blaine's face. "Is this your way of telling me you want more?"

"Well, s-since I'm not a-allo-owed to t-touch," Blaine had gone back to stroking around Kurt's rim, finger tips just dipping inside. "F-fuck. Blaine. More. Please. Anything." Kurt's words went straight to Blaine's cock, now dripping heavily without even being touched.

"God. Kurt. I love you like this, stretched out and needy. My beautiful, beautiful caro."

Two lubed fingers slipped in easily, wrist twisting to spread the lube, Kurt clenched hard, moaning at the returned stretch. "Yess…Blaine. Y-yours. Always..fuck..a-always yours. More. More p-please." The please died as a gasp when Blaine crooked his fingers, searching until he found the spot, mouth opening in a moan of his own against Kurt's ass at Kurt's reaching, erection throbbing painfully at the neglect.

Palming his cock quickly, slightly relieving the building pressure, Blaine withdrew his fingers from Kurt slowly, tucking a third in on the next stroke in. Kurt's hips thrust back and he moaned, deep and wanton and made Blaine want to say screw it to his plans and fuck Kurt into the bed. But he had his plans and Kurt had wanted to feel owned…though a hard pounding into the bed would work, Blaine wanted to draw this out a little more. Because he could, now, with the ring on Kurt's finger and their declarations of love swirling around them. He could take his time and take Kurt apart piece by piece.

So instead of burying his dripping, painfully hard cock in Kurt, he eased him open with three fingers, pausing to let Kurt adjust before moving his hand, bracing himself against Kurt's ass as his hand fucked in slow and hard, Kurt panting hard in time with each thrust in.  
His voice was gravelly when he spoke, Kurt's hip's had increased their pace and Blaine didn't want it to end yet. "Tell me when you're close, Kurt."

It didn't take long. Three more thrusts and Kurt was crying out the nearness of his orgasm and then shouting when Blaine removed his fingers, thrusting back into nothing, stretched hole clenching around nothing. "Fuck. B-blaine. Please." Kurt was drifting back from the near-high, hips no longer erratic and body heaving as he caught his breath.

Blaine palmed his cock again and bit back a moan at the sight, waiting for Kurt to come back from the edge, thighs and arms shaking from effort. Blaine moved from between Kurt's legs to lie at his side, threading his fingers through the sweat-damp locks and urging Kurt to meet his eyes. After a tug on his hair, Kurt turned his head to face Blaine, mouth parted and panting still, needy whispers escaping every few breaths.

Their lips touch lightly, once, Blaine's moving across Kurt's and Kurt letting him, only starting to respond a few beats in. His limbs are trembling harder than before and the thought that he might not be comfortable flashes through Blaine's clouded mind. "Hey, Kurt?" He stroked his clean hand up and down Kurt's back, down his arms, then back again. "How about you lie on your back?" With gentle hands and slow motions, Blaine got Kurt stretched back out on the bed, both sighing as he relaxed, Blaine kneeling over his thighs. "That's better isn't it, my beautiful caro."

They kissed again, languidly, Kurt's mouth opening to Blaine's passively, reacting only as Blaine's hands started wandering. He pressed lightly into the marks he had left earlier, thumbs rubbed in circles around and then over his peaked nipples. The lower he went, the closer to the erection Kurt seemed to have momentarily forgotten about the more reaction he got from Kurt. A familiar hip cant up was Blaine's reward for pressing into the mark above Kurt's hip, a moan into his mouth for him dragging his fingertip through the quickly forming pool of wetness around Kurt's navel. Kurt broke the kiss with a keen when a second pass just barely touched the soft head of his cock.

Blaine ran one finger up the thick vein, from base to head, twisting his wrist to lightly press his thumb nail into the slit, Kurt tensing and moaning under him, the stream of babble starting again, pleading for more, anything Blaine just more. He chuckled as Kurt's hips lifted up in search of the lost touch when he moved his hand down, moaning in tandem with Kurt as he repeated the motion, dragging his fingertip up, this time rubbing, barely touching, just under the crown. Kurt thrashed on the bed, hand flying to grab Blaine's wrist. "Blaine." Kurt was on the edge of begging now. One more push and he would say anything to get off, but Blaine trusted he wouldn't touch himself this time.

His erection bobbed against his stomach as he moved and sat as close to Kurt as he could, pulling his leg over his shoulder and pushing his other leg up, knee bent to bare Kurt to him. The fine hairs on the inside of Kurt's knee tickled his cheek as he rubbed against it, stroking the thigh stretched up to him with delicate touches, Blaine's other hand dropping between Kurt's legs to tease along the stretched rim. Fire coursed through him as he watched Kurt's eyes flutter closed when he stroked up to his balls, toying with them momentarily then dragging back down to circle the his hole again.

"Do you need more lube, baby?" His stomach swooped and erection throbbed when his fingers dipped in before withdrawing, judging the slickness. Kurt's back arched off the bed, his hand flying to clutch Blaine's still resting on his hip, the black of the ring startling against the white knuckle and Blaine's stomach swooped for a different reason. Entwining their fingers awkwardly, he waited, a finger slowly fucking into Kurt. "Lube, baby?"

Blaine watched Kurt search for words, mouth moving in short gasps that made his erection leak even more. "I-if it's o-oh god-only your f-fin-ngers, n-n-oh." Blaine slid two fingers in before Kurt had finished speaking, turning to kiss the knee at his shoulder as he twisted his fingers, warming Kurt back up.

As soon as Blaine's fingers were as deep as they could, his mouth sucked hard, working a mark into the spot of skin right above the inside of Kurt's knee, where the hair was thin and soft, Kurt's hips ground down hard on the fingers. Blaine could see the concentration crease his brow, the muscles in his thighs flexing as he tried to...

Kurt keened, back arching when his hips found their mark and forced Blaine's fingers to brush against his prostate. Blaine pulled his fingers back out, tutting at Kurt's whined pleas. "No, Kurt. It's my turn to play, remember? Grinding down on my hand counts as touching yourself."Letting his fingertips dance along Kurt's rim again, he met Kurt's eyes over his leg. "Are you going to let me continue?" Kurt's fingernails dug into Blaine's hand where it still lay against his hip. Blaine let his thumb stroke Kurt's until Kurt nodded. "One more time, baby. Then you can come."

He leaned up and over Kurt, keeping Kurt's thigh pinned between them until Kurt was spread open and Blaine's mouth brushed against his ear. "I'm going to make you feel so good baby. Just a little bit more. You want it to be that much better, don't you, Kurt." He could feel his voice rumble through his chest and Kurt arch up into him, canting his hips down. Blaine let him, one finger entering with an easy press. "Tell me when you're close, caro.. I'm going to make this so fucking good for you." Kurt whimpered, and turned his head to meet Blaine's mouth in a kiss that was more tongue and teeth and panting breath than kiss.

"I've got you, babe. I've got you." Blaine captured Kurt's mouth and added another finger in the same breath. Kurt moaned into Blaine's mouth when Blaine twisted his fingers, speeding up his thrusts slightly even as Kurt clenched around him. Kurt froze, Blaine's fingers brushing his prostate. Kurt was tight and warm perfection around his fingers, the squeeze seemingly to pull at his cock, leaking and throbbing painfully where it was pressed into Kurt's thigh.

His third finger slipped in with a sharp intake of breath from both of them, tensing for a moment before Kurt started grinding down again, panting quickly. His hips jerked up weakly as Blaine ignored his prostate, using the fingers to explore and stretch.  
Blaine pulled away to watch Kurt's face, flushed and covered in a sheen, bottom lip immediately caught between his teeth. Kurt's thrusts and grinds became more erratic, losing all rhythm as his breath caught. His voice was high and pained when he managed to get the words Blaine had been expecting out, "Stop. S-stop."

His fingers slid out with a dirty, delicious squelsh. Kurt was near tears, humping against empty air as he tried to pull himself back from the edge. Blaine cooed in his ear, balancing himself so he did not brush anything that would make Kurt lose control. "Shhh. I've got you, caro. My beautiful, amazing, stunning Kurt. So amazing for me, letting me do this to you. I love you so much. Thank you for letting me show you how much, how stunning, how sexy you are." The words helped to pull Blaine back from that precarious edge too, the throb still there but not nearly as urgent. "There you go. Next time. We're almost done, my amazing Kurt. I still have you. I'm not gonna let go."

Kurt turned his head, eyes desperate and full, searching. Blaine smiled and kissed him, soft and sweet, the smile staying on his face. When they separated, foreheads touching. A soft smile broke on Kurt's face, Blaine dipping down to bop a kiss on his nose. "Ready, babe?" Kurt, words obviously still beyond him, nodded quickly.

Blaine kept himself bent over Kurt, keeping Kurt bent in half. It took all of Blaine's self control to not rub against Kurt, but he would wait until the next round for that. He focused his frustrations on Kurt, adding a third finger to the two already fucking Kurt and relishing Kurt's appreciative moan. Not want to string Kurt out any further, Blaine stretched and twisted faster and faster, a punishing pace that he knew Kurt loved. He was rewarded with an octave-stretching, unashamed moan, the last second breaking off as his fingertips brushed Kurt's prostate.

Kurt was practically quivering, hips fucking back unsteadily, his hand a tight grip on Blaine's hand. His free hand fisted hard in the sheets next to his knee, thrown out as wide as he could manage without forgoing the leverage of his foot planted on the bed. His neck arched, high pants and whimpers falling on each exhale.

Blaine slowed down (mainly to give his wrist a break). Kurt cried out, face crumpling in frustration. "Kurt, my caro. I'm here. I've got you." Instead of speeding back up, he twisted and crooked his fingers. Shifting the slightest, Blaine slid his erection against Kurt's and thrust his hips down twice before pulling back and rubbing Kurt's prostate in insistent circle.

Blaine watched in awe as Kurt's face contorted beautifully, his body seizing and jerking unsteadily, his orgasm taking him by surprise and lasting, streaks of come painting his chest and stomach. Blaine kept his fingers moving as best he could through the tight squeeze of Kurt around him in time with the shakes rocking his body. Blaine thought he heard his name of Kurt's lips before he started cooing and praising.

"There you go. My beautiful Kurt. Amazing, and stunning and I love you so much like this. I love you so much no matter what."  
They both winced, Blaine's fingers sliding free. Barely hanging on the not come-covered side of orgasm, Blaine did not let himself look down at Kurt's hole, which he knew would be slightly stretched and red and slick. Mindful of the stress of the position on Kurt, Blaine eased back slowly, wiping his hand clean before stretching out beside Kurt and burying his nose in Kurt's hair.

"Thank you, beautiful. And if you're up for another round soon, I have more plans for you." Blaine felt more than saw Kurt nod and kissed him lightly, Kurt still dazed, and slid down the bed. He met his eyes and saw another small nod.

Kurt's come was cooling slightly, sticky and thick and bitter on his tongue as he licked up a strip that had landed across Kurt's chest. He licked with deliberation, to clean, not to tickle or tease. Kurt's oversensitivity kicked in and Blaine felt a hand tugging sharply at his hair.  
Their kiss was lazy and sloppy, Blaine still on edge and Kurt still coming down. Blaine felt Kurt moan into his mouth after Blaine coaxed Kurt's tongue into his mouth, letting Kurt taste himself.

Kurt winced when Blaine cupped his hip, pressing his fingers (freshly wiped on the sheets) into the mark over his hip. Blaine watched Kurt's eyes start to drift shut, opening when Blaine tapped against the bruised skin. "Ready to go again, caro? I'm not quite done with you yet."  
"What?" He dropped off as Blaine pressed his still neglected erection into his hip, mouth falling open. Blaine turned into the hand that had come up to cup his face, waiting for Kurt's answer. "Please."

"Need more, babe? There's still a little left in you." His fingers danced across Kurt's stomach, teasing over the still-sensitive head of Kurt's cock, up to a nipple, and back down, easing Kurt back into arousal.

"Please, Blaine. Please. More. Want you."

Blaine smiled, leaned down to kiss him, and was met with hunger in Kurt's kiss. "You have me, caro."

"In me. Please, Blaine. Need you in me now." Kurt's movements were slightly uncoordinated but he managed to pull Blaine over him, legs firm around his waist, heels digging into Blaine's ass. The room filled with moans as Blaine's hard length slig against Kurt's, half-hard and trying to get harder.

"Shh, Kurt. I've got you." Blaine spoke as he reached for the lube, fumbling for a condom until Kurt shook his head. "What, Kurt?"

"Just you. Wanna be yours. Just yours."

The words were fresh kindling to the slow fire at the base of his spine, re-igniting the flames. "Whatever you want, babe."  
Freshly lubed fingers slid home with a low groan, two then three in quick succession, Kurt's needy whimpers spurring him on. "Now, Blaine. N-need you n-now."

The cold of the lube shocked Blaine enough that he did not come when he finally touched himself, hand spreading the lube purposefully. He knelt, then wiped his hand off and guided Kurt, pliant and whimpering, up to kneel in front and over him, back to chest.

He gripped the base of his cock painfully tight as he guided Kurt back down onto him. Ladysex and sad puppies. Think about ladysex and sad puppies, Blaine.

Kurt was tight and hot around him, seated fully on Blaine, back arching and head dropping to Blaine's shoulder. Taking a deep breath and repeating his mantra, Blaine gripped Kurt's hips and pressed a kiss to his shoulder blade. Slowly, obviously still sensitive, Kurt started moving under Blaine's hands, a slow rock up and down, each move punctuated with a moan or whimper or caught breath.

Testing to see how fast Kurt had recovered, Blaine moved a hand from Kurt's hip to between his legs, closing lightly around the nearly completely hard cock, Kurt only moaning as he ground his hips down onto Blaine.

Kurt retaliated by grabbing his other hand and pulling it away from where it gripped his hip to his mouth. Blaine's hips jerked up uncontrollably when he felt lips around his fingertips, biting down on Kurt's shoulder and focusing on not coming right then when Kurt sucked hard, moaning around his finger, his back bowed, driving Blaine's erratically jerking hips deeper.

"I-Kurt. I n-need," his voice was wrecked, mind scrambling to put words to what he needed, "U-up and off, for a s-second. I n-need to s-see you." Kurt let his fingers fall from his mouth and allowed Blaine to guide him to turn, resettling. The difference was immediate, heat completely surrounding Blaine, from the blazing hot need behind his balls to the press of their chests and lips. It was nearly suffocating and Blaine needed this, probably just as much as Kurt did.

Their kiss broke into pants of hot, hard breath into each other's mouths. Kurt picked up speed and fire raced along Blaine's body, Kurt's arms wrapping around him, pressing as close as possible. Kurt's thighs, sandwiching Blaine's, shook, both of them trembling and panting with exertion.

Blaine was so close when he laid Kurt back down to the bed. He hooked Kurt's legs outside his arms, spreading him impossibly wide, their mouths meeting again, teeth and tongue and the need to be closer and the other's, there was no fight in the kiss, just mutual passion and white heat.

On the edge, having come already, Kurt lay there and took it, breaking the meeting of their mouths to whine high as Blaine pounded into him, thrusts uneven as he struggled to keep control for a few moments longer. "I've got you, caro. Let go." Kurt whimpered, pleading, blunt nails digging painfully into Blaine's shoulders. Blaine moved a hand between them, fisting Kurt in time with his thrusts. "You're so beautiful, Kurt. Come for me, caro."

Kurt nearly screamed as he came two strokes later, the tight grip of his ass around Blaine dragged him over the edge, his cock pulsing inside Kurt, his mind flying on colors and blood pounding through his ears. Vision slowly clearing, every bit of him trembled as he lowered himself down, trying not to crush Kurt. He managed to slump to the bed only half on top of Kurt, pulling out with a wet squelching sound, wincing at the brush of any movement against his cock.

Blaine lay on his side, facing and entwined with Kurt. He didn't know which one of them spoke first, each of them saying I love you at the same time. Blaine could feel his heart both swell and melt at Kurt's smile, blissful and relaxed. "I do, you know. Love you." Kurt's voice was content, the smile evident on his face and in his tone as he rubbed their noses together.

Blaine's hand stroked Kurt's cheek, smiling in return. "I love you too. So much."

He let his eyes drift shut, not to sleep, just to bask. Fingertips traced the faint smile on his lips, exploring delicately. He sighed, perfectly content, Kurt's thumb stroking over an eyebrow, down to his cheekbone, and around again.

Blaine's eyes opened at a quiet sound of displeasure from Kurt. "What's wrong?"

Kurt grimaced as he shifted, pout exaggerated. "I was clean and now I am sticky."

"Let me." Kurt reached out to him as he moved. "Shh. I'll be right back." Blaine returned quickly after having wiped himself clean in the bathroom. Kurt stretched out obligingly, letting Blaine wipe the drying streaks of come off his chest. Still floppy from his orgasms, Blaine smiled when Kurt turned over with a gentle push, stopping short at Kurt's hiss of discomfort. "Sorry, Kurt. I'll be done in a minute."

Gently, Blaine moved Kurt's legs enough to spread his cheeks. His rim looked painfully red, the white of Blaine's come, just starting to leak out in an obscene contrast. Unaware of doing so, Blaine must have made some noise because Kurt was twisting, pulling him down, kissing him hard. "No. I like that I'm going to feel you tomorrow. Just like I like that you were enthusiastic in marking me. I like that I get to show that I'm yours."

"If you say so..." Blaine was only half convinced, but he wasn't in love with the thought of Kurt being in pain (the lingering soreness between his own legs was completely different, of course).

Blaine cleaned Kurt up as gently as he could, leaving to toss the washcloth in the laundry basket before cuddling up to Kurt again. Kurt snuggled closer and kissed his way to Blaine's ear. "I think..." His voice was low and sultry and Blaine was still too sensitive to enjoy his dick trying to get hard again. "I think we should order food. And a cheesecake. Or just a cheesecake."

He pulled back, staring at Kurt until his stomach growled loudly in agreement. "Okay, okay. Intense day calls for cheesecake."

"Intense day that just so happens to be the day I'm going to call our anniversary deserves an entire cheesecake."

And how could Blaine possibly deny that face, that man? He ducked and shook his head, laughing lightly. "Okay. Do we have to leave bed?"

"Couch cuddles would be easier to eat. And all your movies are out there." Kurt was the picture of innocence, blinking wide-eyed at him, lip caught and being worried between his teeth.

Blaine leaned in, coaxing Kurt's mouth open and licking at his bottom lip. "Cuddling on the couch it is then. Call the restaurant while I grab us a blanket?"

He stayed long enough to watch the flex and stretch of muscle as Kurt leaned to grab his phone off the bedside table, leaving the bed when Kurt started humming along to the 'we love you but you're still on hold' music. Not paying attention, he grabbed two pairs of underwear, throwing one over his head in Kurt's general attention and shimmying into the pair he kept. From behind him Kurt laughed, high and musical. "What, babe?"

"Nothing Blaine. Nothing."

"If you say so." Blaine shrugged off the random laughing and brought out the blanket, setting on the couch before turning to choose a movie, back to the bedroom door. A kiss pressed to the back of his neck told him Kurt had joined him. "What would you like to watch?"

"Whatever you'd like. I chose cheesecake, you can pick the movie." Kurt moved away and Blaine missed the warmth at his back immediately. He picked up the first thing he touched and slid it into the dvd player. Kurt was already under the blanket, feet curled up underneath him and arms open. Blaine grabbed the remote and sat next to Kurt, leaning into his open arms, fast-forwarding through menus, paying more attention to the hand that was carding through his hair at the nape of his neck than starting the dvd.

Somehow, about five minutes into the movie, Blaine ended up in Kurt's lap, hands tangled in his hair and shivers racing up and down his spine as Kurt traced the lines of his muscles, lips quickly approaching numb but he didn't want to break the kiss.  
Blaine lost track of time in the heat of the kiss, lazy and exploratory, kissing for the sake of kissing, the movie and the rest of the world forgotten in the background.

The not entirely unexpected blare of the buzzer startled them out of their kiss, Blaine only staying atop Kurt thanks to the strong arms around him. "Up for a sec, sweetie. I'll get the door."

He let himself fall to the side, jaw hanging open when Kurt stood up and he finally could see the underwear he had thrown at Kurt. "Are-" Blaine had to clear his throat before he could continue. "Are you going to put pants on?"

Kurt stopped, hands on his hips, posing. "Do you not like them? You threw them at me."

They were a joke from Cooper. Silly underwear is something they did for Christmas. This pair was the newest, and he had no idea how it had ended up at the top of his drawer. They were an ungodly shade of yellow. Spongebob yellow. Complete with big blue eyes over the tops of Kurt's thighs and a nose framing Kurt's half-hard cock. They were too tight and too short, riding too high and showing too much thigh, the bulge accentuated. Kurt looked ridiculous and debauched, hair a mess, lips swollen, covered in bite marks and bruises, clad only in Blaine's Spongebob briefs.

"You're going to kill the poor delivery boy."

Kurt sauntered over to the door, hips swinging with each step, smiling over his shoulder before opening the door. Blaine peeked over the couch to watch the exchange.

The poor delivery boy had no hope. It was always the same boy (John, Blaine thought), young and struggling to come to terms with himself, though Blaine had an idea which way he might lean.

"O-order for M-mr. H-hummel."

"Thank you so much. You have the card on file, right?" Kurt was acting utterly unphased by his partial nudity and John's reaction to it..

"Y-yes." John the delivery boy was blushing redder by the minute, trying and failing to keep his eyes up. Blaine watched his eyes dart down and then back up, staring determinedly at the door frame. Blaine bit the back of his hand to stop himself from speaking up or laughing. Two half naked men would probably not help the situation for poor John.

"Let me take the food. Do you have a receipt for me to sign?"

"Y-yes, sir. Of course." Kurt took the trembling paper, signed it against the wall, and handed it back.

"Have a good evening, John."

"Th-thank you, sir. You too." The door had barely closed before Kurt and Blaine were laughing, Blaine jumping over the back of the couch to pull Kurt into his arms and bury his face into his neck.

"You are absolutely terrible. He was a good delivery boy. Now we're going to have to train a new one."

"Like you didn't enjoy it. And I told you, I like being able to show off that I'm yours." With Kurt's words the mood changed for a moment, more serious and intense and all Blaine wanted to do was pin Kurt to a wall or be pinned in turn so he could have marks to show off. But Kurt before Blaine could act on it Kurt was pulling away, leading him back to the couch, setting the bag of food down and wandering into the kitchen to retrieve silverware and a glass of water to share.

Blaine's legs ended up on Kurt's lap when they had settled with their food, Kurt's hand rubbing up and down the side of his calf between bites, not talking other than to comment on the movie. When their dinner had been finished and Blaine had thrown the boxes out, he cut a large slice of cheesecake and returned with two clean forks. Their knees brushed as they resettled on the couch to watch the rest of the movie, and Blaine didn't know the last time he had been quite so happy.


	10. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was a birthday present for a friend. It is in the correct chronological place and has no plot at all. So... enjoy some boysex. Because it is the last for a while. Also, I adore Cooper sometimes.
> 
> Warnings (just for this chapter): mild d/s, slight bondage and squinting at it exhibitionism.

A soft tap at his office door startled him, breaking his concentration. "Come in." Kurt stepped in and Blaine felt his heart leap. He jumped up from the desk, chair wobbling as he sent it skidding backwards in his haste to get to the door. "I didn't think I'd get to see you until Friday." The words were mumbled against Kurt's neck and he breathed in deep, the feel of Kurt actually there filling the void he had felt since they had seen each other last (a week before. A week of a cold, empty bed after three months of nearly constant company was unbearable).

Kurt pulled him back, kissing him lightly. "I skipped my appointments for this afternoon. I woke up and was not feeling…well." Blaine leaned back slightly, surveying Kurt's face: coloring was normal, eyes not glazed over. Only the wardrobe seemed more relaxed. Fewer layers and loose pants (well. Loose by Kurt Hummel standards).

Blaine cocked his eyebrow, confused. Kurt looked normal and healthy. "What's wrong?"

"I woke up in my bed. Alone. And I needed to see you. What better way to cheer myself up and improve your day than coming to visit. Also…" Kurt leaned in, draping his arms around Blaine's waist, hands sliding down and into the back pockets of his pants, Blaine almost moaning as his own arms wrapped around Kurt's shoulders automatically. "I've had this picture of you spread out on your desk, me pounding into you until you can't see straight." Blaine shivered and gulped, feeling himself harden. "It made concentrating very… hard." Kurt rocked his hips forward into Blaine's as his hands pushed Blaine into him. Kurt was already well on his way to being hard, the length of him against his hip igniting sparks under Blaine's skin.

"Here? Now?" But who was he kidding? Both of them knew that this was one of Blaine's things (Blaine knew, Kurt obviously had guessed).

"Here. Now. On your desk. With your brother next door and gods know who else in the building." Blaine felt himself harden even further, his slacks quickly becoming uncomfortably tight, pulse thudding in his veins. "And I'd say," Kurt's hand dragged slow around his hip to cup Blaine through his pants, voice sinful, velvety and heated, "You like that idea, Blaine."

Blaine pressed himself closer, rubbing against the hand still cupping him and dragging Kurt's head down to meet his lips, the kiss hot and wet and all exploring tongues, making Blaine want to rub himself harder against Kurt.

He managed to force himself back, stepping away, Kurt still watching hungrily. Blaine watched Kurt in turn, saw as his stare darkened, the blue of his eyes pushed back until it was only a thin ring. Slowly, he backed up, moving towards his desk, undoing his tie and letting it slither to the ground, quickly followed by his shirt and undershirt. Another step and he was out of his shoes and belt. All the while tingles of electricity raced up and down his body as Kurt watched, making no move to undress himself, watching as Blaine stripped for him. Blaine might have been self-conscious if not for the lust-blown eyes, tell-tale flush starting to bloom, and the front of Kurt's own trousers obviously growing tighter as his erection strained against the zipper.

And then he was standing in his office where he ran a Mafia family in only his boxer briefs, Kurt rolling up his sleeves as he approached, forcing Blaine backwards until his ass was pressed against the hard edge of his desk. A breath separated them, Blaine watching Kurt watching Blaine as Kurt pulled out his wallet, removing a condom and a packet of lube, dropping the wallet somewhere behind him and and the supplies onto the desk.

The air in the room seemed at once to heat and then vanish, suffocating and choking with the slight whisper as Kurt undid his belt, letting it fall to the floor with a soft clink. He gripped the the edge of the desk, knuckles going white as he clung on. He could feel that he was already fully hard, a wet spot darkening the fabric, dragging against the soft head of his cock with each twitch and breath, and he hadn't even been touched yet, not really.

And then Kurt was on him, surrounding him, and Blaine was alight, heat racing under his skin and twisting at the base of his spine as Kurt's tongue expertly tasted, fucking into his mouth possessively. It was all Blaine could do to let his hands fly up, one clutching the back of Kurt's neck, the other on his ass, pulling him closer into himself. Broad hands rubbed up his arms, his shoulders, down his chest, one hovering at his nipple, thumb circling the now pebbled flesh. Kurt's other hand continued down, past his hip, palming where he was hard and straining and leaking with anticipation, then around, skating the edge of his boxer briefs, forcing him off the desk.

Blaine went as Kurt's hands pushed, already pliant in his arms, breaths sucked in quickly before they plunged into their kiss again. Kurt sucked Blaine's bottom lip into his mouth, drawing out a groan as he scraped his teeth along it before releasing it. Blaine's hands clutched wherever he could maintain purchase, rutting against Kurt's hips, impatient to keep going and quench the fire burning under his skin.

The fire grew hotter as the hand that had been teasing his nipple dropped to join the other, both working to push his boxer briefs off his hips. Blaine helped as much as he could without breaking the kiss, getting them halfway down his thighs. The world froze, Blaine breaking the kiss to keen long and high as Kurt's hands, sure and possessive, grabbed his ass, long fingers skimming, then delving between his cheeks, brushing too lightly and too dryly across his entrance. The touch was too little to be more than a tease, but it sent sparks up his spine, another high keen falling from his lips, too loud in the quiet office with his brother next door but he couldn't stop it.

"You need to stay quiet, Blaine. You don't want Cooper walking in right now." It was a mark of how far gone Blaine was that even his brother's name didn't lessen his erection at all. In an effort to keep himself quiet (because he really didn't want Cooper walking in), Blaine cupped Kurt's face in his hands and kissed him, sucking hard on Kurt's tongue before tangling his own in Kurt's taking out his frustration at not getting more than a dry finger circling his hole dizzyingly slowly and the too-rough drag of Kurt's slacks, still fastened, against his cock.

"Please, Kurt. More. I need more." Blaine felt desperate, sobbing with need. He might explode if he didn't get more of anything at that moment. "Please. Anything. Gods, Kurt, anything."

Kurt pulled back, a hand capturing Blaine's chin and directing his gaze upwards. "I've got you, Blaine. But I need you to be quiet, okay?"

Blaine nodded blindly, earnestly, uncomprehendingly. He would agree to anything that would get him more. "Quiet. Yes. I'll try. Please, more."

Strong hands wrapped under his thighs, lifting him onto his desk, the wood cold against his too hot skin. Kurt pushed Blaine's underwear from his legs, Blaine kicking his feet and sending them flying before spreading his legs to let Kurt step in closer, pressing himself, all cooled fabric against Blaine's skin, sensitive and overheated, every brush sending a jolt to his cock.

Blaine's whimper was silenced by Kurt's mouth, slanted perfectly over his own. Giving up on Kurt doing anything but rub at his shoulders and chest (which felt amazing but did nothing to soothe the persistent throbbing between his legs), Blaine moved his hands from Kurt's neck, thumbs moving across Kurt's nipples, hard underneath his shirt that was still on. Why was he still wearing clothing? He pulled back from their kiss, smiling as Kurt leaned in, trying to follow him, and asked as much.

Kurt just chuckled, smiling, a thumb stroking Blaine's bottom lip. Blaine opened his mouth further, letting it in and twisting his tongue around it, humming at Kurt's groaned "God, Blaine." Kurt pulled his thumb back, now wet, and teased across Blaine's nipple, finally responding to Blaine's pleas for more. "I want to fuck you just like this. You bare on your desk, slick against the hard wood, reminded of this when you have to work, me over you. Mine, Blaine." The last came out as more of a growl that sent shivers up Blaine's spine, his cock jerking up at the words.

Blaine let himself be guided back, Kurt's mouth hot on his neck, little fires left with each kiss, Blaine's hips jerking as best they could when Kurt's lips and teeth tug at his earlobe then suck hard at that spot behind his ear. His mind has cleared of all thoughts, burnt away by Kurt pressing him ever further backward. Blaine clutched Kurt's shoulders as his back hit the desk, hands grappling for purchase on the fabric of Kurt's shirt.

He gave up as Kurt sucked hard at his collarbone, hands thudding against the desk as his head dropped to the side, giving Kurt more room to work. He felt Kurt hum against his skin each time a moan ripped from Blaine's throat as Kurt pulled the thin skin over his collarbone into his mouth, worrying what would be a bruise but felt like heaven.

Kurt pulled back and Blaine whined chasing Kurt's lips after a chaste kiss. "Shh." Kurt reached over Blaine, grabbing the packet of lube and moving the condom closer.

"Please fuck me Kurt. Please." Blaine's thighs fell open, knees bent so he could press his heels into the edge of the desk, spread as wide as he could manage when Kurt pressed a slick finger to Blaine's hole, circling tortuously slowly, leaning in and covering Blaine's mouth with his own, swallowing the moan as his finger slid in without warning, a second pressing in as soon as Blaine gathered himself enough to bear down. The burn and stretch was heady and incredible, too much too soon and Blaine loved every slide of too much.

Blaine could only babble softly as Kurt worked, quickly stretching him open, adding more lube, scissoring his fingers. Blaine let the words and panted breaths fall from his lips, trying and failing to keep himself quiet, shouting when long fingers grazed his prostate. Kurt's thumb soothed circles on the cut of his hip, relaxing even as his fingers kept moving and stretching.

A third finger was added easily, Blaine could barely feel the stretch, only the need for more, for Kurt was important. "Ready. Want you. Please want you." Blaine did his best to plead with his eyes, hoping Kurt would see that he needed him now. Kurt met his eyes and nodded slowly, reaching for the condom wrapper and tearing it open with his teeth. Blaine kept his head up, watching as Kurt pushed his pants and underwear down, hissing as he rolled the condom onto his cock, already flushed red. Blaine shivered with anticipation, hands flexing against his thighs, watching as Kurt slicked himself up. His head dropped back and hit the desk with a thud as the blunt head of Kurt's length brushed against his entrance. Pleas fell from his lips again, a jumble of "Please Kurt" and "Fuck me".

Kurt bent over him, licking up a beaded line of sweat from his chest, then up his neck, until his lips were pressed against Blaine's ear. At the same time, the head of his cock popped in with a slow thrust forward, Blaine arching off the desk as his legs wrapped around Kurt's waist, heels digging into the small of Kurt's back. Kurt entwined their fingers, pressing the backs of Blaine's hands into the desk, all the while fucking in slow and shallow, rocking in and out mere fractions of an inch.

Blaine had no idea what he was saying anymore, only vaguely aware that his lips were moving, attempting to form the words that would get Kurt to fuck him.

Centimeter by centimeter, Kurt thrust in deeper, still too slow and too little, but the small movements forced Blaine to appreciate each little more stretch and depth.  
Finally, Kurt bottomed out, circling his hips deep in Blaine, the hot length of him thick and Blaine felt perfectly full. He wanted this forever.

Lazily, Kurt's hips picked up speed, taking his time. Blaine would have known that it was to make him feel every movement of Kurt in him if he could have thought clearly. Only the desire for more coursed through him, burning most every other thought out of his mind, high pants and moans jolted out of him with each dull slap of Kurt's balls against his ass.

Kurt pistoned in harder, but still not hard enough. Blaine sought Kurt's eyes, whimpering pleas and clenching his ass around Kurt, who smirked and shifted his hips slightly, pressing down hard on Blaine's hands. "What?" Kurt's cock brushed Blaine's prostate and his shout was silenced by Kurt's mouth on his, the echo ringing in his ears, joining the pounding of his heart.

"Shh, Blaine. You have to stay quiet for me or Cooper is going to hear us and come in." Each jolt of Kurt's hips forward knocked a low pant from Blaine, interrupting the semicontinuous stream of fuckyespleasemoreKurtharder.

Dumbly, Blaine nodded, swallowing the whine when Kurt slowed, paused, bottomed out, hips circling again, cocked so he dragged just so over Blaine's prostate. Blaine felt himself flush as Kurt's gaze raked across his body. He had to bite his lip hard when the circling of Kurt's hip grew wider again, Kurt thrusting in deeper, Blaine's head thudding back against the desk.

Using the little leverage he had from Kurt's hands, Blaine did his best to meet Kurt's thrusts, tightening himself around the hot length inside him, moaning along with Kurt. "Fuck, Blaine. You're so good, taking it so well. But you have to stay quiet for me."

Blaine had lost his grip on his control, the babble and moans growing in volume as Kurt pounded into him, slow and hard. He was getting closer with each slap of Kurt's sack on his ass, the coil of heat in him flaring brighter and twisting tighter and hotter.

He knew, somewhere in the recesses of his need-driven mind, that he was too loud. But he ached with need, ached where he was pressed into the desk, Kurt's weight resting on his hands, unforgiving and claiming. It was all Blaine could do to lay there and take it, spikes of pleasure dancing across his skin.

He was so close.

And then Kurt was gone, pulling out and moving away. Blaine cried out, panting and frustrated, clenching around nothing. "One moment, Blaine."

He sat up, sticking slightly to the desk, watching Kurt as he picked up Blaine's tie, folding it neatly

"Is this okay?" Kurt seemed unsure, holding the folded tie out. Blaine's mouth went dry, cock jerking against his stomach as he realized what it was. "You know I love your sounds, but right now you have to be quiet."

Unable to summon words, Blaine let his legs fall open, panting softly as he lay back down, hands returning to their former place. And then Kurt was there, kissing him open and deep. Blaine left his mouth open when Kurt pulled back and eased the folded tie between his lips.

The makeshift gag pressed his tongue down, lips quickly beginning to ache from the stretch. He held his legs up, inviting Kurt to step between them and inside, a dull burn growing in his abs and thighs from the effort. He wanted to beg, to say whatever Kurt needed to hear to start fucking him again. But the tie in his mouth meant he couldn't, so he had to wait for Kurt.

Cool, confident hands rubbing up and down his thighs did nothing to quench the fire burning low in his belly, tendrils of arousal snaking around him as Kurt teased light touches to his nipples, his stomach. A gentle pinch to the head of his cock made his vision go white and his back arch off the desk, too much and too little. Blaine's eyes found Kurt's, stare breaking when Kurt's fingers slipped lower to stroke his balls, down his perineum. Blaine saw stars, hips and cock jerking, Kurt pressing harder against the place where hi prostate could feel it, quickly moving down to trace Blaine's rim, still stretched and waiting. Blaine felt himself clench, trying to pull Kurt inside.

His whimpers were smothered by the gag, freeing his mind and letting him not hold back, allowing him to focus fully on Kurt's hands on him, thighs brushing the underside of Blaine's. He wanted to cry, Kurt's length brushing against him. He reached out to Kurt, who batted his hands away. "Hands on the desk until I tell you to move them, okay?"

Blaine nodded, dropping his arms to the table, head following suit again, but not before he saw Kurt squeeze a line of lube on his fingers, slicking himself again. Wet fingers returned to Blaine's entrance, two slipping in easily. Blaine ground himself down on the fingers as best he could, eyes meeting Kurt's and begging for more. The fingers were gone and Blaine could cry until he felt the blunt head of Kurt's length at his entrance, circling before pushing inside. Kurt moved as slowly as he had before, little thrusts in until Blaine could feel the wiry hair at the base of his cock against his ass, stilling inside Blaine, neck arched back and Blaine wanted so much to touch him.

Kurt shifted, pushing Blaine's hands above his head, one hand pinning them while the other snaked down, dragging across his chest and sternum, leaving streaks of fire in its wake, Blaine arching up into the touch.

What felt like an eternity later Kurt's hand finally wrapped around him and Blaine almost came, would have come if Kurt had moved his hand, so warm and tight and frustratingly stationary. Unable to cry out, Blaine wrapped his legs around Kurt, heels digging into his ass, urging him to move.

Kurt nodded, thrusts picking up speed, hand tightening and moving in time with his hips. Blaine gasped around the gag, heat gathering, pooling, his balls tightening. "Come for me, beautiful." Kurt's voice was just as wrecked as Blaine felt, and he so wanted to come like Kurt said he could.

Above him, Kurt was panting, thrusts losing their rhythm but Blaine couldn't push himself over the edge. Kurt canted his hips, thrusting once, twice against his prostate, hand on Blaine's cock twisting and catching under the head, then brushing over it.

The pressure and heat snapped, back bowing, ass clenching around Kurt, white ropes painting his chest and Kurt's fist as Kurt worked him through it, his own hips stuttering through his orgasm and Blaine cursed where they are and the condom between them, wanting to feel Kurt filling him.

Kurt barely caught himself before collapsing on Blaine's come-streaked chest, arms trembling slightly. Slowly, Blaine came back to his senses, coming down off the high. Kurt released his hands and pulled the gag from his mouth, smiling at Blaine in permission before ducking down again. Blaine's hands fell to Kurt's shoulders, squeezing hard as Kurt's tongue dipped into his navel.

Blaine bucked into Kurt's mouth when he switched to licking broad stripes, cleaning Blaine of the ropes of come. Arms shaking slightly, Blaine lifted himself up to watch Kurt, wincing as his cock tried to harden at the sight.

Chest heaving brokenly, streaked with damp lines from Kurt's tongue, Blaine met Kurt's kiss and would have come again if he could have. Kurt hadn't swallowed all of it, tongue pushing Blaine's release into his mouth. He moaned into the kiss, tongues twisting together, sharing his taste between them.

They broke apart, Blaine sitting up fully, hand still cupping Kurt's shoulder, thumb rubbing slow circles. He tugged on the shoulder in his grip and Kurt came closer until their foreheads were touching. Kurt's eyes were soft, blue, and sated. "I love you." His voice was quiet, happy.

"I love you too." The room was cooler now and Blaine was uncomfortably slick between his legs, but he wanted to stay like this forever.

Kurt's eyes flicked up to the clock on the opposite wall. "You should get cleaned up and dressed. Cooper will be back soon."

"You-you just wanted to gag me." Not that Blaine was surprised by the deception.

"You just wanted me to gag you. I didn't actually want to get caught. Your brother would have offered tips."

"And one thing you do not need is tips."

"Implying that I need something else?" The corners of Kurt's mouth were quirked up in a smile, but his eyes were worried.

"Only to kiss me again." Blaine tilted his head up, their lips meeting chastely. "I'd ask you to come shower with me, but…"

"But then you would never get anything done."

Blaine hopped off the desk, wincing slightly, smiling at a concerned looking Kurt. "I'm fine. Just a little sore." He pressed himself against Kurt, fabric scratching on his still-sensitive skin, cupping Kurt through his pants and enjoying Kurt's answering hiss, obviously having missed Kurt tucking himself back in. "I'll think of you all day, while I sit at the desk you fucked me on."

Kurt moaned, hands sliding around Blaine's hips falling away as Blaine stepped out of his reach. "No. I have to go shower, remember? I'll talk to you later?"

"Yes. I'll call you tonight and see you tomorrow, definitely."  
"I love you."

"I love you, too."

They kissed one last time, and then Kurt was straightening himself up and shutting the door behind himself.

Blaine's intercom buzzed with Cooper's voice. "You two lovebirds done in there?"

"Give me twenty minutes, Cooper."

"Who topped? Do I need to send the couch out for cleaning?"

"Twenty minutes, Cooper."


	11. Part 7

The next two weeks passed without much trouble. The only issue Blaine took with them was the distinct lack of Kurt in the first one (aside from the delicious visit towards the end). But they both had jobs they needed to attend to and bosses (or brothers) to appease.

Finally, the end of their drought came, a whole week and change after Kurt's surprise and Blaine could not have been more ready for a break only a good fuck by the man he loved could bring.

They met at Blaine's gig that night, Kurt already sitting at the bar, chatting with Mike and texting someone when Blaine walked in. He felt wound up too tightly. Things with Sebastian were too quiet and Blaine was convinced that this was the calm before the storm. Before Kurt, he like any of those of the family his age, would have been ecstatic at the thought of a fight. Now that he had Kurt...he didn't want to think that he hadn't had anything to live for, but now he would like to avoid any injury to himself and any danger to Kurt.

There was still no sign of the mysterious missing painting, and Cooper and their father had, for all intents and purposes seemed to have given up on it, if they ever thought it existed. Blaine was not even sure any more what he believed. He had been so convinced that this would amount to something, be it the discovery of a lost masterpiece or the start of a fight that wiped out another generation of the families, either thanks to Smythe's stupidity and brashness.

Blaine's throat was tight by the time Kurt had stood up and wrapped his arms around him, steadying and tight. "You okay?"

"Yeah." Blaine mumbled into Kurt's neck, holding on tighter and soaking in the feeling of being held and Kurt's cologne, light and spicy in his nose (a combination that was starting to feel an awful lot like home for only having dated for less than five months). "Just work stuff."

"Anything in particular?" Kurt's hands were like magic, stroking up and down his arm when they broke their hug.

"I promise I will tell you when we get to your place, okay?" Kurt hummed, kissing Blaine lightly and how had he gone without this for so long?. "Okay. and then no more work talk after that. We both need a break, you in particular."

Dragging his eyes up now that he no longer felt like he was going to float away, Blaine noticed the light circles under Kurt's eyes and the tension in the way he held his lips. "You okay?"

Kurt's smile was tired and his eyes distant, but he still smiled, squeezing Blaine's hand as he nodded. "I am. Just a long time without seeing you. I missed you."

Blaine stood on tip toes to peck a kiss on Kurt's lips before a shout informed him that his set was supposed to start in three minutes, why was he still macking on his beau? "I'll see you at my break."

Kurt nodded again, and Blaine really just wanted to leave, to curl up with Kurt, to forget about his job and family and help Kurt forget whatever he was hiding in the corner of his mouth where the smile was still tight. Leaving wasn't an option, so he kissed Kurt again before turning, throwing his bags behind the bar, stealing a water bottle, and making his way to the piano.

The set passed. Blaine wasn't playing at his best but he didn't flub anything seriously enough for anyone to notice. Ducking under the ropes that warded off most patrons from approaching the piano too closely, Blaine scanned the bar and... Kurt was not there. There seats were still open, their drinks were there, but Kurt was noticeably not. "Where did..." Mike pointed to the door, where through the window Blaine could see Kurt's silhouette, pacing and gesturing with one hand. "Phone call?"

"Yeah. He said something about work and Blackbird before he ran off."

Turned towards the door, Blaine sipped his drink and watched Kurt continue pacing, freeze, then nod with what seemed to be a sigh. The door opened and he stepped back inside, the cloud over his face disappearing when he saw Blaine waiting for him. "Sorry about that. Work crisis. My supervisor is less than thrilled with one of my designs, so I may be scrambling next week if she does not change her mind about it." He slid onto his barstool, leaning his head onto Blaine's shoulder and sighing.

"I, as you know, understand about bosses and their problems." He downed the rest of his drink, a wave from the corner signaled that his break was up. Blaine rubbed Kurt's thigh as he stood, Kurt canting his head to receive Blaine's kiss before he stood up and back fully.

"See you in a half an hour." Kurt nodded, blindly reaching for the fresh glass the bartender had brought a moment before. Throwing himself did not prove to be the distraction he needed, but Blaine thought he did reasonably well. It had only felt like fifteen minutes when he saw the signal to wrap it up. The small crowd gathered clapped when he stood and bowed at the end of his set. The "good jobs" and "I loved its"s while he walked back to Kurt meant he must have done better than he thought he had (or his audience was simply closer to wasted than sober).

Kurt was on his phone again at the bar, talking quickly at whoever was on the other end. Blaine waved towards where he had stashed his bags and Kurt nodded, both chuckling when Kurt pointed at the phone and rolling his eyes. Blaine only caught the "Well tell her I am sure, I may not know what I am doing but I know about this, she just has to trust me" before their farewells. Kurt turned off his phone, sliding it into his pocket with finality and gestured to Blaine. "Let me take one, please."

"I've got it. I'm all balanced."

"If you're sure..."

"You can make sure the tab is squared away"-he got a scoffed of course-"and open all the doors. But first, can I have a kiss."

Kurt smiled, really smiled, for the first time Blaine had seen that evening. "A kiss I can handle. I am not so sure about the doors, though." Kurt's lips were warm on his, tasting like alcohol and familiar when he licked teasingly along their seam. Kurt pulled away before they could get carried away, leading them out of the bar and into the crisp night air, arm curling around Blaine's waist, the two falling into step automatically. "So, I was thinking dinner at my place? You can tell me what is bothering you and then we can both...relax."

"And not by watching Disney movies, I take it."

"No. I was thinking we would need a higher rating for what I think we both want." They were waiting at a stop light so Blaine did not have to contain the urge that swept through him. He stepped close and pressed a kiss to the sensitive skin on Kurt's neck, barely pulling back to mumble "I love you" like a promise into Kurt's skin.

"I love you too, Blaine. Now, shall we keep walking?" The light had changed without Blaine noticing, the two barely making it across before it changed again.

Kurt's apartment was the same as always, feeling comfortably lived in and emanating Kurt. The only thing betraying a hint of clutter (as opposed to clean and lived in) were the sketches out on the drawing table in the corner and the easel with a nearly finished painting to its side, on the wall that Blaine knew got the best of the afternoon light, when Kurt preferred to work.

He allowed himself a moment to imagine life if he was not who he was, that he and Kurt had just met, or if they could just drop everything and leave this life behind them for one where he could play and Kurt could design and paint. One where afternoons before gigs could be passed watching Kurt paint, watching him slip into and out of himself at the same moment, moving quickly, effortlessly, arms and hands gliding from one thing to the next, tongue peeking out from between his lips and brow furrowed as he worked to make it as exact and as perfect as he could until Blaine pulled him away from the easel and into his arms.

That could not happen, of course. Things were not different. Blaine was ,who he was with a past that was not clean. He didn't think this was too terrible. But he knew in the pit of his stomach that things could have been different.

"Sweetheart, you gonna stay in your head all night or are you going to let me in?" Two clicks of glass on glass preceded Kurt wrapping his arms around Blaine's hips, chin dropping, a reassuring presence over Blaine's shoulder.

"Sorry. Work." He did not bother to contain the shudder that ran through him when Kurt brushed his lips across the sensitive spot under his ear.

"It is just us here. You can talk and be safe here."

Biting his lip, unsure why there was a burning behind his eyes and a tightness in his throat, Blaine shook his head. "I will tell you. Not yet. I have to work it out in my head first, okay?"

Kurt stepped in front of him slowly, never breaking contact between his hands and Blaine's waist. "Tell me whenever you are ready. Until then, sit and I will make dinner."

"Can I do anything to help?"

"If you would like, you can make the salad while I finish everything else? I prepped most of it already."

Their lips met sweetly, lingering as they pulled away, Kurt directly into the kitchen and Blaine towards the ipod dock before following, moving seamlessly together to finish cooking their dinner.

The subject of what was bothering Blaine came up as Blaine let Kurt clean them both off, curling around each other and resting his head on Kurt's chest, enjoying the hand threading through his curls and scratching lightly at his scalp. "I guess the problem is that I don't know what is wrong. Everything should be great. It seems that whatever plans Smythe had have fallen apart. Everything should be settling down. But it just seems too good to be true. If it were any other family I would have thought that there would be some sort of retaliation. But there hasn't been. I know that Sebastian does not play by the same rules everyone else does. But..."

"At the same time your instincts are screaming at you that he wouldn't give up quite so easily. What does Cooper or your father have to say about it?"

"They haven't shared with me. We talk about it, but if they have decided something one way or the other they have not informed me."

"What does everyone else think?"

"I don't know. It's on the agenda for things to discuss in Wednesday's meeting, and I am sure it will come up before and after when I talk to Cooper."

"And until then you are stuck with your thoughts?"

"I guess so." "Well then," Kurt rolled them, until Blaine was under him, raising up on knees and elbows above him, "what kind of boyfriend would I be if I did not help distract you from your woes?

Blaine arched up under the touch, seeking Kurt's lips and uncaring that the blood rushing to his cock was slightly uncomfortable, still too oversensitive as their lips met, Kurt obviously taking his job of distracting Blaine to heart. And as fingers probed his entrance, still open and slick, work was the farthest thing from Blaine's thoughts.

The rest of the weekend was exactly what Blaine needed. Sunday morning, he and Kurt went for brunch and then a walk through Central Park. They returned and napped until Kurt could not sit still any longer, dragging Blaine from his bed into the living room, flitting around, humming to whatever song was in his head. A cup of coffee, no sugar and with just enough milk to make it the color of his skin was handed to him over the back of the couch, Kurt humming into the kiss he stole, moving off quickly to fetch his own coffee and bring out his paints.

"You can read my mind, can't you?"

"Um. No?' Kurt's eyebrow cocked as he sipped his coffee, not waiting for a response as he continued his preparations.

"I love watching you paint. It may be one of my favorite things in the world."

"My mouth sinking down around you isn't?" Kurt raised his hand to his mouth, covering his gasp of mock hurt.

"I said one of, caro. But watching you paint, when you are so free and open and happy, you look like you could just float away if gravity wasn't a problem."

Kurt smiled, humming as he flicked the drop cloth, letting it float neatly to the floor, stepping onto it and pushing up his sleeves.

"Is this a talking day or a no talking day" Some days Blaine had watched Kurt paint, he had been requested to stay as silent as possible.

"Talking is fine. I'm just finishing this one up." His hand was still moving, pinning the copy of the original to the side of the easel and squeezing out lines of paints.

"Who is this one for?"

"My friend Mercedes. She has a soft spot for cubism, something I do not always excel in replicating. So this is her birthday gift and a challenge to myself. If I fail, she gets a spa day. If I succeed, I get the spa day"

"So everybody wins, then?"

"Precisely." Looking at the painting, obviously still not quite finished, Blaine could tell that Mercedes was not going to get a spa day. For someone who confessed to not be his best at cubism, Kurt still did a damn fine job.

Kurt worked and worked and worked, Blaine ordering in Thai and forcibly dragging Kurt away from the painting, promising to let him finish after he had eaten something. The painting was finished that night, Kurt barely making it through cleaning off his brushes and palette, half heartedly running through his moisturizing routine (Blaine noticed) before falling face first into bed.

Moving him gently, Blaine stripped Kurt and maneuvered him under the covers, snuggling close when he slipped under a few moments later. Even though they wouldn't see each other for an extended period of time until Wednesday evening (when they would have dinner before parting ways, Kurt needing to go to work ridiculously early at a place clear across the city from where Blaine lived), Blaine was content to hold Kurt. Utterly content.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Wednesdays were never good days for Blaine. He knew the reasons (general dissatisfaction with his job and the inability to ignore it due to meetings). This Wednesday, however, took them all. Their dinner Tuesday night had not been long enough. He missed Kurt, needing more than just the two hour fix that was their conversation.

And Kurt... Kurt was hiding something. There was something that he was not telling Blaine, something he thought he should tell Blaine but, for whatever reason, had not. And Blaine was worried about what this thing was. What that shadow that lingered in Kurt's eyes, that tension in his lips and posture. The lightness of Sunday was gone and Blaine did not know what had happened. Didn't know if it was work or family.

Or, and he did not want to be thinking this but he was, was it him? Was Blaine the problem? Was Kurt moving on? Having second thoughts? It hadn't been that long since Blaine told him everything. He had been so ready for Kurt to walk out on him then. Maybe, after Blaine's latest freak out, Kurt had thought about it some more, about the realities that come with being involved with Blaine.

Blaine wouldn't blame Kurt if that was it, if it was him. He knew full well the dangers of his life, of how inescapable it was, a death knoll even while you were alive, marking the time that there will be a threat and no countermeasures to be had.

Consumed by these thoughts, he walked into the conference room, two minutes later than usual to the stares of everyone else-they may still have had a few minutes, but even Cooper, who generally swept in at the last minute and started the meeting, was already in his seat. Blaine mumbled apologies to the room and sat down next to his brother, pulling out a legal pad and his pen, nodding to Cooper's questioning look when he was ready.

Normal conversation, business as usual, consumed the majority of the meeting, until Rachel's hand shot into the air.

"Yes, Ms. Berry?" Cooper looked amused, but you were either amused by Rachel or sharpening knives to cut out her tongue with.

"I was wondering if there have been any updates on the supposedly missing painting and the threat from Smythe. Do we have any idea if and when retaliation will occur, or will the matter just be buried? After all, the additional training and supplies are cutting dearly into our funds, and we are moving ever closer to dangerously low..."

"Rachel Berry, if you wish to continue to sit at this table you will control your meaningless fear-mongering. We are not so poor as to need to dip into personal coffers. Things are no tighter here than anywhere else in the city."

"But sir," another voice spoke from the far and of the table, "If there are enough funds to go around why have budgets shrank? Why do some of our illustrious bosses take second and third jobs when the family is supposed to take care of its own?"

The glances towards Blaine were not hidden very well. His own look at Cooper told him that this would be something that they would be discussing after the meeting. Cooper crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, spinning it slightly to face Rachel. "The personal business of the members of the family is none of your concern, Ms. Berry. We do not mention your dalliances with Mr. St. James or your attempts at off-Broadway theater. Each of us has our diversions to pass leisure hours, even yourself. What my brother chooses to do is none of your concern."

Silence rang through the room in the wake of Cooper's words. Rachel flushed and looked down, suddenly seeming to find her nails very interesting. "Now that proper manners have been reestablished, does anyone have anything else to add? No?" Blaine noticed that no hands were raised and no one came close to meeting his or Cooper's eyes. "Good. Continuing, then. Brittney, tell me any news of the Hill affair."

The meeting continued, although the concerns raised by Rachel were the elephant in the room. Much of the family's finances were kept secret. But these were not the foot soldiers. These were the people who believed they were entitled to at least a majority of the information, including the finances (the basic divisions, at least).

No one met Blaine's eye, and he did not understand why. Was it because they thought he was the one responsible for the increased spending? Even going so far with that spending that he was drawing from his own pocket and needed to perform at gigs for money? Even as he followed Cooper out and whispered conversation swept in to fill their place in the room, Blaine hurt with not understanding. These were people who, though slightly older than him, had known him forever, who had watched him prove himself. Was it because word had gotten around that he had taken a steady lover, even though that news was nearly five months old the ring on Kurt's finger was newer. Had one of them seen it and disapproved?. Was it simply business and nothing else? Blaine just did not know and he hated it.

Cooper led them to his desk, leaning against its edge. Blaine felt himself tense, bracing for whatever his brother was about to say that had him rubbing at the bridge of his nose before gesturing for Blaine to close the door and crossing his arms over his chest.

"There really hasn't been any word about Smythe, has there?"

"I want to be able to tell you otherwise. Any news would be better than this radio silence. I cannot plan with silence."

"You're pulling the increased funding and declaring business as usual?"

"I have no reason to believe otherwise. An attack at this point is outside the reasonable time-frame for retaliation. And no one would have believed that painting really survived, so revenge should not be on the table for them."

He could not stay still. Feeling his brother's eyes tracking and evaluating, Blaine paced, taking a moment to choose his words carefully. "But they don't operate as we do. We know that. Why would they follow tradition on this and not anything else? Past actions indicate that we should..." Blaine gestured with his hands, trying and failing to find better words, "Expect the unexpected, for lack of a better term."

"You want to keep the extra measures in place, even knowing that it makes our subordinates unhappy?"

Blaine did not have to wait long for the right words to come to him this time, meeting Cooper's eyes. "I want to keep our people safe. If that means tightening our belts or shifting money around, so be it. But I would rather that than a blood bath. I know that it looks like it is over and the danger has passed. But...I don't know. I have this feeling that he is planning something else. I want more than anything to be wrong. But he has not once yet played by the rules and I don't think he will now."

"You're certain?"

"That I think he is planning something? Yes. I would rather not be taken by complete surprise, either."

"I will talk to Father about this tonight. In the meantime, could you look over the Wesley files to see if anything was missed?"

"I'll have a write up before I leave."

"Good."

Blaine was dismissed with a nod, leaving his brother still leaning against his desk, the exact pose their father stood in when he was thinking. Cooper belonged in that room, and Blaine hoped he was there for a long while.

The Wesley file took up most of the afternoon, Blaine falling into the monotony of picking out inconsistencies and things that should have raised flags when none had been. His phone vibrating its way across his desk and nearly onto the floor pulled him from the file. Glancing at the caller id but not registering the name, Blaine answered. "Blaine Anderson speaking."

"Hey you, am I interrupting?" Kurt sounded nervous, voice high and breathless.

"What's wrong?"

"I...I..." Blaine could hear Kurt swallow. "We...I need to talk to you. When will you be done?"

"Uh, an hour until I can leave without Cooper saying anything."

"Can you come over? Or I can come over to your place, that would be easier."

"Kurt." Blaine tried to keep his voice even and calm,"Are you injured or in immediate danger?

"No. I just have some news." Blaine breathed a sigh of relief.

"I can come over to your place, although it will take me a little longer, or you are welcome to wait for me at mine. I should be there is an hour and a half, if traffic is decent. You gonna be okay until then?"

"Yeah." Blaine could hear a door slam and the sounds of a street in the background. "I just need to tell you something, but it can't wait and needs to be in person."

"Okay. Go to my place and I will be there as soon as I can."

Somehow, the next hour passed and Blaine was shutting down his computer and sliding the report under Cooper's door. He fired a text to Kurt to let him know that he was on his way, periodically checking for a response that never came.

A little seed of worry grew in the pit of his stomach, growing larger the longer Kurt went without responding and the slower his trains moved. In a city full of people who were perpetually rushing, no one seemed at all in a hurry. Logically, he was probably overreacting. Unfortunately, he and logic were not common bedfellows, especially where Kurt was concerned.

Ten minutes later, Blaine slid his key into the lock, frowning when he found it unlocked, something that was not like Kurt. He opened the door, calling out as he shut it behind him, deadbolt sliding into place.

"Kurt, honey? Where are you?"

Nothing felt out of place, but it was too quiet. Kurt never did anything without some sort of noise.

"Kurt?" Blaine let himself start to worry.

His heart froze when he dropped his keys into the bowl by the door.

They clinked only with glass.

Kurt's keys weren't in there.

No need to freak yet, Blaine. Maybe he forgot to put them in. Look around first.

He looked. The office. The guest bathroom. His bed. His bathroom. Nothing. Kurt wasn't there.

Blaine stared at the front door. Kurt's shoes were not there. But one of his jackets was, one that he did not keep in Blaine's closet. He pulled out his phone, dialing Kurt's number quickly.

The call picked up on the third ring.

"Kurt, I thought you said you were coming here. Where are you?"

A cocky, drawling voice answered, "Hey, Killer. Missing someone?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Going back and reading is so weird. I forgot the timing of all of this. And I shan't be mean and stop transferring here.


	12. Part 8

Blaine's heart stopped, and he had to fight the buzz in his mind and the shake in his hands because Smythe was speaking again and he had Kurt.

"Oh, changed your mind about wanting him back, then? No interest in my new friend?-Sebastian is gloating and Blaine thinks he can hear muffled yelling in the background-"He led me right to you, you know. Couldn't find your safe house until he walked there all of the time. But I have it now. And him. You should be proud. He cooperated so well today, getting into the car like a well trained bitch."

"Where did you take him, Smythe?" Blaine forced himself to take even breaths. He hadto stay calm. "Your quarrel is with us, not him. Let him go."

"Nah. I think I'll keep him. He seems enjoyable, although my ears may bleed from his voice. Nothing that couldn't be fixed with a quick snip of his vocal cords." His voice turned sickly sweet, turning Blaine's stomach. "What do you think about that, Kurtsie?"

The plea was out of his mouth before he realized it. "Let him go, Sebastian."

"I don't think I will. However, since you trained gay face so well I did not even muss up my new shirt, I will give you a chance to earn him back.

Familiar territory. You can do this. You can do this for Kurt.The more he reminded himself, the less sure he felt. "I am listening."

"A car is going to pull up. Get in and drink the glass given to you. Do not call anyone. Just you, Blainey. Then we will settle our debts."

"And Kurt?"

"Adorable how you think you have a say. Get in the car or I will send his finger back with your ring on it.

He breathed deep, a surreal calm settling across his shoulders, a thick blanket of nothing. "Okay."

Sebastian sounded almost gleeful. "So glad you see it my way."

Silence ran through his head, the eerie calm of training and experience fully settled into him. the call to Cooper was made quickly, Blaine's fingers dialing from memory.

"Hello?" Cooper's voice nearly took a jackhammer to his internal peace. His breathing ragged as he gathered himself again.

"Sebastian has Kurt and I-"

"And you will not go after him."

"I am going in Sebastian's car and doing whatever I need to so he gets out."

Cooper obviously pulled the phone away from his mouth to shout a long string of curses. Blaine could imagine him running his free hand through his hair as he leaned against his desk.

"I'm not waiting for an extraction team. There isn't any time and it's my fault he got involved."

"You have duties owed to more than just your lover. There will be others, and as the second in command of the Family, I am ordering you to not get in that car and to wait for backup."

Blaine swallowed hard, collapsing onto a chair, rubbing at his face. "I...I'm sorry, Cooper. I'm sorry. I can't. I have to get him back." His blood ran cold with grim determination, fueling what was was always going to have been his decision, praying his words wouldn't be the goodbye they sounded like in his head. "I..." He cleared his throat around the tightness in it. "I love you, Coop. But I love him too. And I have to do this." He ended the call before Cooper could respond, the dull buzzing back between his ears.

Numb, Blaine stood again, crossing to where Kurt's coat was hanging on a hook, and buried his nose in the collar, where the spiciness of Kurt's cologne mingled with that scent that was all Kurt. No matter what happened, he would always remember that scent, as familiar now as Kurt's arms around him. He blinked back a few tears, forcing himself away and back to his task.

He rolled his shoulders a few times, squaring them before leaving the apartment. Everything felt...surreal, his mind in a free fall, letting the door to the entryway slam shut behind himself. As if it had been timed, a sleek black town car pulled up as he hit the bottom of the steps, nondescript and classy, just as Smythe presented himself. A man stepped out of the back seat as Blaine approached, Blaine sitting the open seat as the door was shut behind him. Wordlessly, Blaine accepted the glass being handed to him, chugging it without protest. Training taught him to pick out when a drink was off, and this one was. The car stayed motionless as Blaine felt the drugs hit. Going against everything he felt and had been taught, Blaine let go, allowing the fog to ascend unchallenged over his mind. A few breaths later and darkness swallowed him.

Sounds. So many sounds. High and low and a horrible smell in his nose, making Blaine snuffle. The sounds and light were annoying. The dark was nicer.

A too-familiar voice shouted, high and panicked enough to cut through the fog before being muffled, the sound of a hit against cloth-covered skin and a softer, more far away groan reaching his ears. He heard the slap before he felt it, a skin-on-skin crack before pain blossomed across his cheek, rocking the chair he was...bound to. Fuck. He shook his head, hoping to clear it, biting back his groan when it failed.

"Glad to have you back in the land of the living, Anderson." Blaine raised his head, blinking quickly until he could focus on Smythe standing in front of him. "Though," Smythe went on, almost as an aside, "how long you stay here is entirely dependent upon you."

He dropped his head and closed his eyes, keeping his voice as blasé as possible. "Shall we get down to business, Smythe, or are you just going to talk my ear off?"

Blaine raised his head to look at Sebastian in time to see him nod to someone behind Blaine. Another sound of a punch, another groan so familiar and so wrong echoed through Blaine's ears. He was going to be sick. He started to turn his head, but cool fingers gripped his chin tightly and forced his head up to look at Sebastian, who had crowded into his space. Keeping him talking would be the key. The longer they talked the more time Cooper had t find them. "Okay, Sebastian. What is it you want that will let everyone walk out of here"-basement, judging by the dampness and lack of windows, cracks in the paint showing age and disuse-"alive and happy."

"See, now, that won't be possible. I want you or your toy in a body bag next to the one holding your brother."

Keep breathing, keep him talking. Just keep him talking. "What did we do to provoke this? Do you really think your boss will appreciate the start of another war?"

"Hunter? He won't be a problem for much longer." The hairs on the back of Blaine's neck stood on end at Sebastian's smile.

"You're going to lead a coup."

The smile got wider, eyes manic. "Past tense, Blainey boy."

That was not good.

Sebastian wasn't done talking, continuing oblivious to Blaine's momentary distraction. "And after that we shall see if we can teach an old dog some new tricks. Your traditions are so dull."

"What does that have to do with us?"

Sebastian held eye contact, the predatory gleam in his eye chilling. The hands at Blaine's chin dropped to Sebastian's cuffs, unbuttoning them and deftly rolling his sleeves up. The fingers were back, bruisingly tight, neck protesting as it was forced back. "Your meddling cost me a Picasso. Fake or not, we had a buyer for it." The fingers at his chin were gone and Blaine's head was snapped to the side with the force of the slap, a sharp stinging across his cheek, a cut from Sebastian's ring. "So, Blainey, it seem you owe me ten million. Santana?" Sebastian addressed someone behind Blaine. "Could you bring our other guest of honor forward?"

The hand on his chin forced his head still, keeping him from watching the shuffling next to him. A chair scraped into place, close enough for him to touch if he could have reached out. More shuffling, and Blaine could envision Kurt being forced forward, being tied into his chair like Blaine was. He forced the guilt from him. He would deal with the guilt as soon as they were not in danger. First he had to get them out of danger.

Santana Lopez entered his line of vision, obviously having finished securing Kurt. The fingers on his jaw released and Sebastian stepped back, eyes moving between Blaine and Kurt, that smile that curdled Blaine's blood still on his face.

Moving slowly, so he could stop and spare them both more injury if he was not allowed to look, Blaine turned his head and had to bite back tears. Kurt's back was straight, his breath labored. A bruise was already blooming purple and blue across the sharp line of his cheekbones, chin down against his chest. Blaine couldn't help the "Kurt" that came out of his mouth. Slowly, as if it hurt him to move, Kurt turned his head to look at Blaine. Another bruise marred his eye, and there was a cut bled lightly from the corner of his mouth, a trail of red running down his chin, staining the cloth pulled tight between his lips.

Blaine blinked back tears at the sadness in Kurt's eyes. He would do anything he could to get Kurt out of this alive.

Sebastian clapped his hands, forcing Blaine to break eye contact with Kurt to look at him, standing between them and rubbing his hands together excitedly. "Now that we have had our touching reunion, we'll get down to business. What do you think, Blaine?"

There was a commotion outside the door, shouts and the sounds of fighting. Someone burst in the door, slamming it behind him, skidding to a stop before Sebastian, whispering hurriedly into his ear. Blaine watched him step back, fingers twisting together nervously as he waited for Sebastian's answer. Santana stepped forward when Sebastian crooked his fingers towards her. They spoke in hushed tones, the shouts coming gradually louder and closer.

Santana nodded stepping backward again, staying closer this time.

"Sorry to have to cut this short, boys. But someone's brother decided to crash the party." Sebastian slid his hand into his jacket, hefting the gun and clicking the safety off. "So, Blaine. Since your brother crashed the party, you don't get to make the decision."

He spun the magazine, popping it back into place.

Blaine couldn't breathe.

The gun leveled at Kurt.

Everything froze, and then happened at once.

Blaine threw himself sideways, knocking Kurt sideways. The sound of a gunshot and pain exploded simultaneously. Blaine's shoulder was on fire before he hit the ground, head hitting Kurt's chair before landing on the ground, something in the arm he landed on snapping with a sickening crunch he felt.

Light and dark flashed, sounds faded to a roar.

Blaine fought through the pain, nearly blacking out as he forced himself upright, pulling himself up against Kurt's chair, one shoulder bleeding, the other arm hanging limply at his side, vision swimming. He couldn't track the movement around him.

Kurt was up and moving, too quickly for Blaine to focus on.

.

.

.

His brother, flanked by Puck and Mike, were in the room.

.

.

.

.

Blaine hurt, each breath a struggle.

.

.

.

.

He couldn't see Sebastian.

.

.

.

.

.

Kurt was standing. His brother was there.

.

.

.

.

.

He sighed.

.

.

.

.

Blaine closed his eyes and let himself fall into the darkness.


	13. Part 9

Awareness came in flashes. Kurt, next to him, touching his face, eyes wide and bright, asking him to focus. Cooper, next to him, talking to him, talking to other people.

They both looked so scared.

Blaine wanted to reach out and wipe the tears from their face, wanted to hold Kurt close and tell him that it will be okay, that he is happy. But everything hurt too much. Pain shot up his arm if he shifted, fire burned steadily in his shoulder. Everything was swimming and he didn't think that was good.

And then Kurt was gone, faster than Blaine could track. Cooper's face filled his vision, held him steady as he coughed, a coppery tang in his mouth. Cooper kept talking, almost like he was begging. Kurt returned, and Blaine fought through the haze, trying to tell them that it was okay. That he was happy they were alive.

The darkness reared up and pulled him back inside.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------

Everything hurt. Each breath burned and Blaine couldn't remember how he got...wherever he was.

Where was he?

It was too bright for him to open his eyes, so he didn't. Not yet. There was an annoying beeping. And he couldn't move his arm from where it lay too heavy on his chest. A dull pain raidiated from the other shoulder.

There was a hand in his own, the one that was not too heavy on his chest. Fingers under his own, a...thumb stroking over the tops of them. Moving very slowly, Blaine let his eyes flutter open, inhaling sharply and wincing at the brightness. The motion of the hand against his own slowed.

Careful not to disturb the person holding his hand and to avoid jostling anything until he could figure out where he was, Blaine turned his head.

Cooper was slumped next to his bed, head resting on the arm holding Blaine's hand, obviously asleep.  
Finally adjusted to the light, Blaine surveyed his surroundings. A private room at a hospital, he thought. The beeping came from a monitor in the corner. Flowers were on the table near the door, set where he could see them. Everything was forcefully pleasant, as if to try to distract while failing miserable at it.

He still couldn't remember what had happened. A car crash, maybe?

He moved on, cataloguing his injuries. He could wiggle his toes, which was a good sign. His torso was stiff, something wrapped tight around them. Bruised or broken ribs, then. The arm across his chest was in a cast. Probably broken. They must have set it while he was unconscious. He couldn't move to see why his shoulder hurt, but he could ask. And his head was still swimmy, but that could be any number of things.

Feeling slightly more informed, Blaine let go when a wave of drowsiness hit him, letting it pull him under again.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The hand was still in his, still stroking his when he resurfaced. The thumb on his fingers paused, Cooper's (he thought it was still Cooper) breathing changed, weight shifted off the bed.

"Blaine?" It was Cooper, his voice timid and hopeful.

Blaine squeezed his hand, nodding as best he could.

"Oh, Blaine." Cooper's voice crumbled, making Blaine's heart hurt.

He turned his head when Cooper scooted his chair closer. It was the most disheveled he had seen his brother in years. "H-Hey, C-Coop." His throat was dry, not working right. The hand in his was gone, Cooper, reaching around him to...grab a cup of water and a straw, a louder beep making Blaine think he had pressed the call button.

"Here, Blaine. Slow sips, okay." Blaine nodded, letting his brother guide the straw into his mouth and doing as instructed. A knock at the door came as Cooper was setting the glass back down, still looking at Blaine with a weird expression on his face, wonder mixed with something else? Thinking about it made his brain hurt.

"I'm glad to see you awake, Blaine." The nurse sounded like any other nurse, quiet and reassuring. "How about we get you sitting up and then we'll get your doctor in here." She was already at the bed, fiddling with things Blaine couldn't see, and then her hands were on him, steady touches guiding as the bed moved under him. The room swam and the nurse tutted when he closed his eyes. "Easy breaths, Blaine. Do you know if he has issues with painkillers?" Blaine hoped the last part was directed at Cooper, who answered with a description of the general symptoms. He hadn't had any since he got his wisdom teeth out, but that had not been a fun experience. "Okay. I will tell the doctor and we will look into possible alternatives."

The darkness behind his eyelids was no longer spinning, so Blaine tried opening his eyes again. The nurse was flipping through his charts and checking monitors, then taking Blaine's blood pressure and saying she would send the doctor in momentarily.

"W-what..." He cleared his throat and tried again. "What happened, Cooper?"

Cooper looked at him, eyes sad. Blaine's heart sank as he realized who was missing. "Cooper, where's...?"

The doctor's arrival interrupted his train of thought. "Good to see you awake, Mr. Anderson. I'm Dr. Adams. How are you feeling?"

"I...what happened?"

"You were brought in with..." Dr. Adams flipped through Blaine's charts. "Your right arm broken in two places, a bullet wound to your left upper arm, severely bruised ribs, and a concussion. Since you have been out we have set your arm, wrapped your ribs and stitched you back up."

Blaine nodded. "How long was I out?"

"Two days. Your surgeries were done yesterday and you have been recovering in here since. Now, I just have to check your ribs and make sure the sutures are clean and then I will be out of your hair for a bit." Cold hands maneuvered him, contrasting with Cooper's as he helped keep Blaine steady. The examination was over quickly, the doctor stepping back and grabbing Blaine's charts again. "Now, Blaine. The nurse said something about maybe changing your painkillers? Have you had problems with them before?"

"Just...the wooziness and general off-kilter-ness is worse with me."

"I'll put you on a different one and we can give it a trial run while you're still here, okay?"

Blaine nodded. "How long until I can go?"

"The food here isn't that bad." Blaine could only chuckle weakly. "Sometime later this week. We want to keep you for that long only for observation. Thankfully the bullet missed most of your shoulder and hit your arm instead, which could have crippled you. However, there may be some nerve damage around that area, so we are going to monitor it. When we get closer to your release, we can talk about physical therapy, if it is needed."

The doctor ducked out with a nod and a promise to check back later.

"Cooper." Cooper sat down next to Blaine, looking worried. "Cooper. Where is Kurt?"

His brother dropped his gaze, breathing deeply before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a folded piece of paper. "Before you read this, Blaine, remember that we both love you. Okay?"

Blaine's heart stopped, only the beeping in the corner picked up in speed as everything seemed to slow. "But. I remember him being alive."

"He's fine. Just...read the letter. I'll leave you to do that. Buzz the nurse if you need. And text me...when you want me to come back, okay? Cooper was already standing up, smoothing the hair on Blaine's forehead back, kissing his forehead before leaving the room, door shutting with a soft click behind him.

He looked at the folded paper in his hands, turning it over. What on earth did it say that Cooper was so concerned about?

It looked so plain, so unassuming, his name on the outside in Kurt's neat scrawl.

He took a deep breath and opened it.

_Blaine,_

_I had wanted to tell you this in person. You deserve to hear this in person. But your brother thought that you would need some time to process it without anyone there._  
 _I am not expecting any one answer. Just a response.  
_ _You remember that I called you that day and told you I needed to tell you something? Here it is._

_I work as a consultant in the Art Crimes unit of the FBI. I was brought in at first just to forge a Picasso, but when there were rumours of there being something bigger, I was told to stay on. I read every file I could on you and your brother, and then I walked into that bar. I tracked your gigs and hoped that it would only be a matter of time before you noticed me._

_The problem got messier, and the Bureau's undercover agent told us Smythe was planning something big. What had meant to be a one time thing, to learn what I could and get out, became part of my assignment. I was told to keep close to you, inform of anything you did in connection to the problems with Smythe._

_I...  
I was told not to fall in love with you. But I did. I love you more than I thought was possible and I hate that I did this to you._

_I would not blame you if you don't believe me or if you never want to talk to me again. I would be forever grateful if you would give me the chance to talk to you in person, but if you do not, I would not blame you._

_Kurt_

Blaine sat.

And blinked.

And focused on his breathing.

He couldn't do anything else.

Nothing.

Tears he did not know he was crying fell and mingled with the dried ones and smeared letters on the piece of paper. Kurt's tears.

He just...

He couldn't, anymore.

He set the letter down, his hand brushing something small and cool. Something that must have fallen out of the letter. He could see the imprint of it on the paper.

His heart was already falling before he picked it up. He knew what it was. Kurt's ring sat on the sheets covering him, small and innocent and a reminder of everything that had collapsed on him.

He ate his dinner when it was brought to him some time later, hungry without wanting to eat, thoughts flying around his head.

Everything.

Everything was a lie.

Part of him believed Kurt loved him.

But everything else?

A small part of his brain reminded him that he did a similar thing to Kurt, being part of the Family and waiting so long to tell him.

Even though Kurt knew.

Kurt _had known._

And Blaine had just fallen for it. Fallen for him.

Maybe it was just Karma's backlash that had wound him in the hospital, a reminder why he shouldn't let people in.

As he cringed through his jello (saving the fruit cup for last), something occurred to him. Something that bugged him, that Kurt had put in his letter and Cooper had said. What was it?

_"Your brother thought..."_

"Before you read this, remember we both love you."

Blaine didn't want his fruit cup anymore.

After an orderly helped him into the bathroom and with a sponge bath, clad in clothes Cooper must have brought from his apartment, Blaine settled back into the bed, flicking on the tv and hoping that the hospital got the channel that showed nearly constant Matlock reruns. Maybe the detective would have some insight into Blaine's situation.

Sometime after the third episode, Blaine's hand loosened on the remote, finally asleep.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Blaine texted Cooper after breakfast, needing to hear the rest of the story before coming to any conclusions. After pondering it over his less-than-appetizing breakfast of oatmeal and yet another fruit cup he could not quite force himself to choke down, Blaine had decided that Cooper was also hiding something, and Blaine was fairly sure what it was.

He really hoped he was wrong.

Cooper's knock came after the second Matlock episode in a row and after the third soduku puzzle done during commercial breaks. He gestured for Cooper to sit as he maneuvered himself to sitting, legs crossed before him, a tricky feat without the help of his arms.

They sat for a minute, silence verging on awkward, and Blaine knew he was right.

"Cooper, I want you to be honest with me, okay? No trying to protect me. It's my life and I need to know the truth." Cooper nodded at him, and Blaine saw him swallow as if nervous. "How much about Kurt did you know?"

"All of it."

Blaine forced himself to nod.

"For how long?"

"From the beginning. From the second time you went out. He and his handler came by to tell me about their plans to take down the Spadarys and the forged Picasso they had planted."

He felt himself nod again.

"And..." Blaine was surprised to find himself _angry_. He did not _get_ angry. "You didn't think to inform me about it? Didn't think I might want to know that..." Blaine ducked his head to study the sheets, "that I might want to know that the man I thought I could grow to love was in the FBI?"

"I hated lying to you, Blaine. But we needed to take the Spadarys down. I was going to, and then you told me you thought you loved him and wanted to get him a Family ring. I couldn't bear to tell you something that was not even my secret."

"So. The two relationships that are the most important to me were both based on lies?" Blaine met Cooper's eyes again. "You put the business before me."

"You know why I did it, Blaine."

And he did. It made him sick to think of it. But he really did understand where Cooper was coming from. And had it been any other fling, maybe it would not feel like his heart had been cut out and held before him, still beating feebly.

"If we let Smythe get close enough to the top then he would have stopped at nothing until he killed all of us. No one can afford such a battle right now."

"Even though it almost killed me."

"You weren't supposed to be there. Kurt wasn't supposed to have called you, wasn't supposed to have told you before everything was over."

"Instead, to save the lives of many, I almost died. I would have to, if the bullet had hit a little lower. I...I need some time to think, Cooper. I'll let you know when I am ready to talk."

Cooper nodded, eyes bright with tears, moving to hug Blaine before stopping himself. He was gone a moment later.

Blaine's thoughts did not stop flitting around his head until his nurse came in for another round of checks, after which he tried more Matlock and a nap. Matlock was so close to solving the case and he wanted to see the conclusion before the fresh round of painkillers knocked him back out.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next day, Blaine had come to his decision. A rational, thought out one. One that he thought made logical sense.

_He hated that he had to make this decision at all._

One that was in his best interests.

_He had to do this one thing for himself._

And he hated it.

_He couldn't stop looking at the ring, sitting next to the cards and the flowers._

Truly hated what he had decided.

_He felt like he was in free fall again. As if he had missed a step walking down a flight of stars._

But it was the best option.

He had decided to tell Kurt first. Cooper could wait and would hopefully understand. And if he didn't. Well. Blaine had already decided.

A quick text to Kurt asked him to stop by around four or so, which would give Blaine enough time to suffer through another sponge bath and put on clothes that were closer to his normal standard.

The next few hours were spent watching a conveniently timed marathon of Disney movies and dealing with the embarrassment of needing assistance in the bathroom.

At four on the dot, there was a knock on his door. Heaving himself up straighter, Blaine called for his visitor to come in.

Kurt had obviously gotten the better end of the fight. His eye was purpled in a livid bruise and he was walking stiffly, but he seemed otherwise uninjured. "Hi, Blaine." He shut the door behind him, words the most uncertain Blaine had ever heard them.

Blaine offered him a weak smile, which was weakly returned, his heart clenching as Kurt perched awkwardly on the seat furthest away from the bed. "Kurt..." Blaine couldn't make his voice work, this was all so wrong it wasn't supposed to have been like this for them. "Just...sit over here, okay?"

Kurt nodded quickly and took his new seat, still perching on the edge, obviously uncomfortable.

_This is why he was doing this. They both needed it. This wasn't them._

"I...I don't know where to start all of this. So. Could you just...start at the beginning for me? Don't leave anything out. Just.. tell me. Including what happened...that day. I still don't remember it."

Kurt nodded, and recrossed his legs, hands folding after he wiped his eyes. It took everything Blaine had to not reach out and hold Kurt's hand. He gripped the sheets pooled around him tighter and waited.

And then Kurt talked. He explained everything, from the moment he had been told to replicate a painting well enough to fool the best of the Bureau's authenticators to what he could remember of his and Cooper's conversation the first time Kurt had joined them for dinner, to the tumult of the last few weeks, the 'I love you's to the ring to that emotion that Blaine hadn't been imagining after all.

They were both in tears by the end, dabbing at their eyes.

"A-and..." Blaine cleared his throat and kept going, "And what about that night?" He knew he didn't need to clarify.

Kurt took a deep breath, shooting Blaine a look that had pain lancing his already broken heart. "It was my fault. We had a plan and I broke it, forced everything to happen too quickly and for you to get hurt. But I...I couldn't handle lying to you anymore. Every time I looked at you or thought about you or your toothbrush next to mine, I was reminded that I was lying to you, just like you thought you had lied to me. So...I snapped. I warned my handler, Mercedes, what I was going to do, then called you. Smythe was obviously waiting for me."

Blaine watched as Kurt wrung his hands together, twisting them tight. "When you got there, Santana had been charged with keeping me in check. She didn't tie my hands well enough to hold me, in case I needed to get free quickly. So when you.." The tears started anew, pooling in Kurt's already red eyes and Blaine's followed, knowing Kurt hurt with the knowledge of what Blaine had done and the bone-deep certainty he would have done it the same way again. "When you pushed me aside and.. and got hit, I was already free and able to catch myself. The fight didn't last much longer than that." He laughed wetly. "I cannot officially know whose bullet hit Sebastian, since the Bureau wants it that way, but you should ask your brother about it."

Blaine's heart clenched again. "And I called in the ambulance while Cooper watched you. We.." Kurt swallowed, and then swallowed again. "We thought we had lost you, right as the EMTs walked in. You had tried to speak and then...nothing. I..." He caught Blaine's eye and Blaine looked back, since it was the least he could do. "I know I don't have the right to tell you this anymore. But I am so glad we didn't lose you."

Blaine would have given any future use of his left arm to be able to hold Kurt then, to reassure him that he loved him and that everything was going to be okay. But he couldn't do that.

"I already made my decision, before you had even walked in. And...this doesn't change anything. I...I know it's harsh. But I need to do this for me. Between the two men who I love the most in the world lying to me about something this big... I know you had to for your job, and I _understand_ that...but Cooper is my _brother_ and I _still_ love you...I just.. I need some time away. All of my life I have been doing the proper thing for the son of a Mafia boss.

"Now...now I need to do something for myself. Nothing in my world makes sense anymore. And I need it to. So.." He took a deep breath, bracing himself. "I am going to go away for a while. I'm thinking six months right now, though I may decide I want to make the move more permanent." He waited for Kurt's jerky nod before continuing. "I am probably always going to love you. But I need time to figure out who _I_ am, without the Family."

"I..okay. Yes. Whatever you need to do." Kurt was nodding and crying and Blaine _really_ wanted to hold him. But this needed to be as clean a break as possible.

"I don't want to lose you. I don't want to lose what we have. You...I can't imagine anyone else in your place in my life. So I was hoping that you would be okay with us putting everything on hold. Just...stopping for a bit. We fell into everything too quickly." Kurt paled, obviously panicking. "I..I still want to talk to you. But maybe just emails for a few months. After all my physical therapy is done and I hopefully have some idea who I am, then we'll look at it again, and see if we want to try again?"

If Kurt said no, then Blaine would probably never come back to New York. Blaine would probably never be _Blaine_ again, and that scared him because it shouldn't be like that and he knew it.

He wanted a life that was made better by Kurt, not dependent on him. That wasn't fair to either of them, Blaine most of all. And after all of this, he thought that he deserved to put himself first.

"Of course. What-whatever you want. I...I love you Blaine. And I may never forgive myself for doing all of this to you. But I will always love you. And...if you say you need time, then that's what will happen."

Kurt kept nodding, as if he couldn't control it anymore. "So, in six months, then? You'll give me a call?"

"Yeah. In six months."

"Unless you need longer. I...I will always be waiting for you, Blaine. So take the time you need."

"Oh, Kurt. Don't...don't wait for me. Be you. Live your life. If you fall in love with someone else," _pleasepleasedon't_ , "then fall in love and don't hold back on my account. Six months is just a promise to look at everything again, and see if we want to pick it up." He could feel the tatters of his heart clenching and withering, but he had to do what was the most fair to both of them. And he could see on Kurt's face that Kurt felt the same way.

"Be-before I go, could I ask something?"

"What?"

"Can...can I kiss you again? Just..one last time to remember you by, in case this is the last time."

Blaine nodded once before Kurt's lips were on his, both inhaling sharply through their noses, Kurt immediately taking control of the kiss, Blaine letting him. Kurt overwhelmed his senses, driving out the omnipresent disinfectant he had stopped noticing was there, filling him up and clouding his mind. Another quick inhale of breath and they switched, Kurt drawing out Blaine's tongue, into his mouth, letting Blaine explore his fill, until the taste and feel and smell of Kurt was permanently etched onto his brain and heart.

The kiss, no matter how perfect, was bittersweet, the feel of tears on each others cheeks, the saltiness of tears sliding into the corners of mouths, into their kiss, mingling between them as Blaine shared everything he had with this kiss, knowing without a doubt Kurt was doing the same.

They pulled away, since no kiss, no matter how perfect, could last forever. They had an agreement. In six months, when Blaine knew who Blaine was, they would talk about trying again.

Kurt leaned his forehead against Blaine's, halfway kneeling on the tiny hospital bed, Blaine's arm awkwardly between them, making it impossible for Blaine to gather Kurt into his arms.

The shards of his heart crumbled a little more when Kurt pulled away, whispering "I love you, Blaine Anderson" before walking out the door.

Cooper did not come in until the following day, after Blaine had requested (and been denied all but one) fruit cup after fruit cup and racked up a huge bill on the on demand channel, crying quietly into the pillow he was clutching to him as best as he could while watching every movie he could think of that did not involve a romance as a plotline.

He avoided looking down too much.

The blue of his cast, chosen at the spur of the moment, reminded him too much of Kurt's eyes.

He had calmed down by the time Cooper came, after a night spend repeating the rationale for his decision to himself. Just because he knew it was the right choice for him didn't mean that it didn't hurt.

Cooper, unlike himself, knocked before entering, sitting down next to Blaine when Blaine motioned for him to do so.

"I.."

"Cooper, can I just say what I need to say before you start? It won't take long."

Cooper leaned back slightly, but nodded and stayed silent. "I am going to go, Cooper. I haven't figured out where yet. But I'm done with the family business. It wasn't ever right for me. You belong there. I don't. I never did. I need some time to figure out who I am, separate from everything I have ever done. Separate from the Family." Blaine paused and Cooper nodded again, still staying silent, but Blaine could see the objections in his eyes. "What I want to know is why. Why you lied to me. Why you did what you did, knew what you knew, and didn't tell me about it." Blaine knew he sounded wounded and pathetic, but he was. He needed to know this before he could start moving on.

"I know you want an answer more than I did what I thought was best for the interests of the Family. But that's the one I have. I didn't include the possibility that you would fall for him or that he would fall for you. It was a miscalculation on my part." His temper started rising, flaring as he knew it would. "I never wanted you to get hurt. It wasn't supposed to have ended this way, and I am sorry that it did."

The unspoken 'but I would have done everything the same way even knowing that you would' hung in the air between them. Blaine didn't force his brother to say it mainly because he didn't want to hear it. All Blaine could do was nod. "I am still leaving. Six months at the least but it may be longer, no matter what you or Father think."

Cooper nodded and Blaine could have cried with relief that he didn't have to fight for this. "I'm sorry that your life made you feel like you need this, Blaine I'm sorry I made you feel like this."

"Coop." Blaine's voice was a small croak as his brother wrapped himself around Blaine, careful to mind Blaine's injuries and held him as tight as he dared. "I'll always love you, Coop. But I need to do this for me, now."

Cooper pulled away enough to press a kiss to the top of Blaine's head. "I know, baby bro. I love you too. No matter what city you're in."

They separated, Cooper sitting at the foot of Blaine's bed, and talked about the logistics of the move, how to make this as smooth as possible and planning for Cooper, as a brother, to help Blaine get settled into a new city.

When Cooper finally left, everything that could have been decided about the move decided, Blaine turned on Matlock instead of trying to sleep. There were too many thoughts whirring through his head, too many holes in his heart.

But he was going to fix it. He knew he was.

It was just going to take some time.


	14. Part 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: talk of depression, slight medication abuse, therapy talk. You know you best, so if you need a summary, get in touch with me and I can tell you what you missed.

The next ten weeks were absolute hell for Blaine, spent up-state with a lovely live in nurse, because with his dominant arm broken, a bullet wound in his other shoulder, and ribs that had seen better days, as well as cutting ties with his brother and his...Kurt, Blaine was fairly close to useless. So it was rural living and relaxing until he thought he was going to go absolutely mad.

It didn't help that he hadn't not practiced the piano for more than a day since the last time he had been in the hospital for an extended period. This time, he had been there for just over a week, thanks to a fever that wouldn't drop and then the time it took for the antibiotics to run their course. After that, he had retired to one of the family's estates until he decided what he wanted to do.

By the end of week three Blaine got clearance to practice the little upright piano with his left hand.

He tried twice.

Both times he ended up slumped over, tears he couldn't explain dampening his cheeks, not stopping even when he shut the cover and the click rang out in the silence of the too-big house.

He walked a lot to stave off the crushing boredom, downloading college lectures onto his ipod and walking until he had trouble breathing, then picking himself up from the low stone wall he had been sitting on and continuing. Philosophy, Ethics, Literature, History all were a good collective attempt, but nothing could hold his attention.

By the end of week four his mind was spinning and just so confused as he sat, numb, staring at the name and phone number written so innocently on the bit of paper.

_"How are you this week, Blaine?"_

_"Mending. I can walk around the property once without stopping now. I'm thinking about trying to walk into town as my goal for this week. My shoulder isn't hurting as much and it has been getting easier with the physical therapy moves you suggested. I'm still having some trouble sleeping, but nothing terrible." Something told Blaine he should say something more, but he didn't know what._

_"And mentally? Emotionally?"_

_Blaine paused and thought about that one, the doctor continuing in his silence. "Because I got a call from the pharmacy where your prescriptions are filled to authorize a refill a week early." Blaine tensed in his seat. A week early? He hadn't thought..._

_"I thought I only took one or two extra. Not a week's worth."_

_"To help with the sleeping, or with something else?"_

_He still couldn't play the piano. He had almost asked the nurse to have it moved anywhere else, but even though it hurt to look at, the thought of not being able to look at it hurt even more. He didn't listen to music anymore. Talk radio, lectures, and audiobooks tried to fill the empty spaces in him now, but it was a hollow, weak filler, dull monotone blending into a seamless haze._

_Something must have shown on his face, because the doctor was writing very carefully on a postit note, handing it to Blaine with an understanding smile. "This is one of my colleagues. I think you should give her a call. There is no shame in what you are feeling, and I think she will be able to help you out."_

Blaine called two days later, after he sat on the couch and looked at the pills in his hand, two instead of one, because numbness was easier to deal with.

He was ushered into the office of a kindly woman who reminded him of an aunt that afternoon.  
They both sat primly, formally speaking and getting to know each other. Blaine felt something in him crack when she asked about his family and then shatter when she asked something that should have been easy to answer - "Who is your favorite artist?"

"I'd rather...not talk about music, if that's okay."

"Is there any particular reason why?"

"I...I don't know."

"Okay. We will shelve that for a moment."

He left, still confused but lighter, with orders to flush the remaining pills and use the new ones instead and to pick up some chamomile tea to help with his sleep. They had decided to start with talk therapy first and add in an antidepressant only if they were not happy with his improvements.

With the fifth week in his quasi-exile, Blaine's doctor cleared him to use his left arm.  
He walked into town without stopping to rest and treated himself to ice cream, sitting on the patio of the little ice cream shop and people watched until his cup was empty and the grayness started to creep back in.

Blaine listened to a seminar on Alexander the Great on his way back.

He didn't notice any changes until the second week (fourth time) seeing Dr. Parker. They had done nothing but talk and Blaine felt he cried all the time, but it seemed the worst of it was over. He walked to a coffee shop and chatted with the barista, the occasional customer interrupting their conversation. Blaine didn't think he did so badly for the first time he had an extended (though not personal) conversation with someone in seven weeks.

He went back again the next day.

Somehow, and he didn't know how, Blaine survived the retelling of his last week in the city (the one before everything happened). He clutched a pillow to his chest like a lifeline and spoke to the floor, ignoring the scratches of Dr. Parker's pen across the paper..

Though he was not ready to forgive, Blaine emailed both Kurt and Cooper halfway through week nine, then lay on his couch and watched a Ghost Hunters marathon, wishing his heart would stop hurting.

At his next meeting with Dr. Parker, he told her about the emails- short, formal, 'this is how I have been doing for the past nine weeks.'

"Why did you choose to do that, when you know that the nurse sends in a bi-weekly update to Cooper?"

Blaine had to think for a long moment, arms settled on his knees and eyes boring a hole into the floor. "I... I miss them. Cooper is Cooper and..." He trailed off, swallowing down the tightness in his throat, "I still love Kurt, despite everything." Blaine refused to name what had happened in his head, even so far after.

"Despite the fact that both of them lied to you repeatedly and in doing so almost cost you your life." Blaine tucked himself up tighter, curling around the aching hole in his chest that pulsed with each heartbeat. After a minute, when breathing hurt less, he nodded, still looking at the floor. "I am going to say a few things you will not believe right now, but will need to in the future, okay Blaine? This was not your fault. They chose their own paths and lied to you. You are allowed to be mad at them and still love them."

Blaine let the words wash over him, sipping from them and tasting how they felt.

They didn't fit. But he could feel that they might at some point.

"When are you scheduled to have your cast removed?"

He could have cried with relief at the subject change. "I have a final x-ray next week, and then hopefully I can have it off."

"Tired of having to use your left hand for everything?"

"And tired of depending on someone to wash my hair for me, and..." He had to pause and gather enough momentum and courage to say it, because it still hurt and he didn't know why. "Tired of not being able to play the piano."

"How has your relationship with music been lately?" Dr. Parker looked up, Blaine could feel her eyes on him as he stared at the floor, and why did talking about it hurt so much? "Or perhaps we should leave it for next time?"

Somehow not talking about it seemed worse. "I want to be able to play. This is the longest I have gone without it."

"Why did you stop playing?"

It made the hole in his heart throb.

He raised the arm encased in plaster. "It didn't make sense to practice only one hand."

"And how about listening to music?"

His heart clenched but he forced himself on. "I still can't listen to it for very long. And it makes no sense because I am music and performing and now I can't and I miss it so much but it hurts too much still and I have no idea why and I am just so tired of it hurting."

He didn't know when he had raised his voice to a near shout, but he had. Dr. Parker looked at him for a moment as he gathered himself.

"I am sorry for that..."

"Blaine." She was firm in her interruption, words forcing his eyes to meet hers. "You are allowed to have emotions and to express them. This is the safest place for that. Now, I want you to listen to one song a day, any song, and think about what could be causing your emotions towards it. There is no right answer, okay?"

Blaine nodded. He knew why it hurt. He just would rather not talk about him.

"What are your plans for after your cast is removed?"

"I had been thinking about Boston or Chicago. But I don't know. I might just stay here."

"What changed?"

"Uh. This, mostly. If I cannot really handle life here, moving might not be the best plan."

"Okay. May I suggest something else to think about?" Blaine looked up before she continued.  
"Are you bored, living here? You do not need to answer now. Think about it for next time?"

Blaine nodded. His head was starting to hurt.

"I think that's it for today. As always, you have my number."

Blaine nodded again, thanked her, and guided the door to her office shut behind him.

He walked to the little park in town and watched the ducks swim around the pond until the families around him started to leave, leaving only the whispers of ducks through water and wind through trees. The walk back to the house was uneventful, white noise of the fall of Rome filling him just enough to let him think.

As the house came into sight, Blaine stopped and flicked through his ipod. He could do this. He chose a song that he knew wouldn't remind him of the city took a deep breath, and listened.

The song was calming, escapist. It was not something he had ever listened to with anyone else or performed at a gig.

It still hurt. Blaine felt his heart clench around the ragged hole still torn through its center. But the pain wasn't debilitating. He felt tears prick his eyes, but he could do it. Even though it wasn't anything he had played, it made him think of sitting under a hot spotlight at a piano, playing to a room full of people who were too drunk to notice the minor mistakes. It reminded him of meeting someone at the bar with a kiss and a smile. Someone who loved him and wouldn't ever hurt him. Until he had.

He sat outside and listened to the song as the sun sank beneath the horizon, dabbing the tears away. He could...do this. Blaine knew he wouldn't be able to bear any of his favorite songs yet.

But this much he could do. And for now, Blaine was content with that.

The final x-rays were clear and the cast off four days and four songs later. He stayed away from anything that would remind him of...him. Kurt. If he wanted to be able to forgive him, then being able to say his name, even only in his head, was necessary. At least, that is what Dr. Parker told him.

His arm was lighter and paler and he felt rebalanced and off-kilter at the same time. The doctor had reduced his pain medication to almost nothing and Blaine thought he might as well buy stock in a tea company with the amount he had been drinking. Blaine felt more aware. He wasn't sure he liked it.

He didn't like it enough that he brought it up when he went to his appointment with Dr. Parker.

"Explain to me more of what you are feeling."

"I.. It's kinda like I am drifting. I don't really know of another way to describe it. I can listen to two songs in a row, now. I can walk anywhere in town and back with no problem. My physical therapy stretches are easy. Everything is going right..."

"But you still feel off?"

"Exactly.

"Do you think, perhaps, that you are bored?"

Blaine turns this over in his head a few times before responding. "Maybe..."

"Here is my reasoning for it-you grew up in the city and left only on the occasional vacation and never for this long. You seem the...most at ease talking about people you talk to.". Blaine nodded and she continued, "Have you thought any more about moving?" He hadn't. "I think the isolation, while needed at first, will negatively impact you in the long run. While I have not seen you in a social setting, I feel that you are happiest when there are others around."

The cushions sighed as he leaned back against them. "I hadn't really thought about it or anything recently. I think... I think I do miss living in the city."

"So think about moving back there. Being here and bored won't make you any happier, and that should be your goal."

"But I am content here."

"Which was good. And is good. But I think that you should set your sights higher. I want you to be happy, and I don't think you could be that here."

Blaine nodded and promised to think about it.

He walked to the edge of the property and sat, leaning against a tree and thought. He had listened to music all the way there and would listen to it on the way back.

Blaine had made up his mind before the cd ended.

After his dinner, Blaine did not immediately do his physical therapy exercises. Instead, he sat at the piano, reminding himself to breathe evenly. He opened the cover and settled himself, checking his posture and his wrists.

He took the piece, one of the first he had mastered on his own, too slowly and messed up. He finished and mentally flipped pages back to the beginning.

Blaine played it perfectly, tears falling slowly as he held the final chord before releasing. As the sound resonated, he felt the hole in his heart start to close.

He had a list of possible apartments before he went to bed.

The next week, his last in the big, empty house passed quickly. Each day had some definable goal that was met before he went to bed. There were calls to realtors to be made, properties viewed by webcam, payments in full made (a very late graduation gift from Cooper after an hour of constant emailing back and forth until Cooper threatened to hack his laptop and purchase all the possibilities).

Then there were boxes to pack and movers to call, boxes to get from storage, his piano to move.

Each day he went on a run, which he could do now that the cast was off, did yoga, and practiced the piano, a little longer each day. Each day, Blaine collapsed, exhausted, into bed.

The day before he was set to leave, Blaine went to his last appointment with Dr. Parker.

"How are you feeling?"

Blaine hated that question. "A bit of everything and overwhelmed."

"What sticks out most in your mind?"

Blaine nodded to show he heard and then thought, moving through the cluttered mess of his mind, shifting to find the causes. "I'm afraid I am making the wrong choice. I'm afraid of losing any progress I have made. I..." He shifted around in his seat, swallowing a few times as he forced the words. "I'm afraid of not being happy there. I'm...afraid of being happy there. I'm absolutely terrified that one day I am going to wake up and...n-not love him anymore."

Dr. Parker hummed softly, obviously waiting for Blaine to continue, taking over the conversation when Blaine shook his head. "Why are you afraid of succeeding?"

"I...I guess I had always thought that I would always live in New York."

"And Kurt?"

"What am I going to do if I move to Boston and do well and love it and...forget him?"

"You may, in that case, meet someone else." She had not finished speaking and Blaine was shaking his head in disagreement.

"I know that you are probably going to say I am too young or that I should not forgive him, but I can't imagine loving anyone else like I do him."

"One, I do not think you are too young to know that. Two, whether you forgive him or not is something you can decide for yourself. I think he made a mistake and I think he knows that. All I want you to do is move at a pace that is healthy for you, and not what you think you should, okay?"

Blaine could only nod.

"Now, our time is up. Here"- she handed Blaine a list-"is a list of my colleagues. My personal suggestions are the two with asterisks by their names. They are both good friends of mine and I think they would fit well with you. Remember, appointment by skype two days after you arrive, and you have my number in case of emergencies."

Blaine stood as Dr. Parker did, moving in to give her a hug, which she returned. "Thank you, Dr. Parker."

"Be happy, Blaine, and enjoy Boston."

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Boston was beautiful. Blaine could see himself coming to love the city. Perhaps not as much as New York, but that wasn't a fair contest. The parks were lovely, his neighborhood was quiet, just outside the middle of everything, and his baby grand, which he could play again, was tuned and sitting in the corner of his living room.

His skype appointment with Dr. Parker went well, as he finished relaying the story of the move and settling in. It was only after they had disconnected that Blaine felt tears welling. That one conversation had been their last as doctor and patient. His final assignment had been to make an appointment with a therapist in the area. Part of him wanted to protest and say he did not need to be coddled. But the radio silence from Cooper and the fear of slipping down again kept the protest silent.

When the tears did not go away, Blaine changed quickly into running clothes, slipped into his shoes, and went on a run. Running helped a surprising amount, the physical exertion keeping him from thinking of anything except the even pounding of his feet and steadiness of his breaths. And after, the endorphin rush certainly didn't hurt.

Three days later, after dropping Dr. Parker's name, Blaine had his first appointment with Dr. Barson, a man a few years older than Cooper, with the same enthusiasm but without the self-centeredness. It was what Blaine guessed was a fairly standard first appointment- names and basic information exchanged before the hated "What brings you here?"

Dr. Barson-"Call me Scott, please"- seemed to be a decent guy, nodding and smiling, his questions leading Blaine along, pulling the information out of Blaine. If the lightness in Blaine's mind at the end if the appointment was any indication, Scott would be a good choice.

Sitting at the piano, Blaine practiced and practiced for hours, until he could not hear the effects of his break anymore. The next day he had two trial gigs at clubs in the area.

For the first time since moving to Boston, Blaine felt like he could beat the cloud that lingered over his head.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Some thunderstorms come without warning.

Others build slowly from a light sprinkle until everything is flooded and winds howling until you were pulled down into the darkness.

First it was the little things. A lightly twisted ankle from a fall that left scratches on his palms. Inconsiderate neighbors. Running out of milk just before he poured himself a bowl of cereal.

Then it was bigger things. One of the clubs not renewing him after his trial run. Rain keeping him from running three days in a row.

Part of Blaine noticed the changes these little setbacks had on himself.

That part was swallowed in the numbness of too much chamomile and an extra pill in the morning.

He could still play music, so it wasn't serious.

Blaine still went shopping, went to his gigs, went on abbreviated runs.

The morning of the day he had an appointment with Scott, Blaine got an email. He read it, face blank. He wrote on a piece of paper, fighting as the gray that had clouded his mind came back.

Blissfully numb and painfully aware something was wrong and he could not get his mind to stop running in circles trying to figure it out, Blaine made it to Scott's office.

He slid the paper across the table between them to Scott, leaning forward and curling into himself, finally giving into the tears.

_Kurt emailed me and wished me a happy birthday._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of what I have posted. I am working as much as I can when I can. I am hoping this weekend I can post more.


	15. Part 11a

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay everyone. This is what I have for the beginning of the next part. I hope you enjoy it!

Scott let Blaine cry himself out, until the sobs wracking his body and calmed and the gulping gasps of air that seemed to fight him and eased. Scott handed him a few tissues and busied himself with his tablet, giving Blaine time to gather himself, which he was thankful for. 

Head a little stuffy but heart oddly clearer, Blaine cleared his throat and nodded when Scott glanced up. Blaine’s knee was patted and they both straightened themselves up. “Would you just like to talk, or would you like direct questions?”

Blaine thought for a moment, considering each before answering with confidence. “Just let me talk. I think I need to work this out in my head.”

“Okay.” Scott’s voice was even and unimposing, his expression when Blaine looked up kind and inviting. 

He could do this.

And he did.

Blaine talked and talked and talked, until their hour had come and gone but Scott took his lunch break after Blaine, so Blaine just kept talking, until the rush of words slowed to a trickle before finally stopping. Scott passed him a water bottle, giving Blaine time to take a few small sips, the water cooling his heated face. “How do you feel now?”

“Um. Lighter. Better. I am still not... But I feel better that at least I am not being... smothered anymore.”

“That’s really good. Do you want to return to anything in specific? Or a few other questions? We have time for one or two more before my next appointment.”

Blaine refused to let himself feel bad for taking up Scott’s lunch hour. Except that he did. “Maybe a few different questions? I don’t think we will make any more progress on...that front today.”

“How do you like Boston?”

“I...really like it. I like that it is quieter than New York. It still has a good music scene and things to keep me busy all the time. I miss New York a lot. But I feel like I could grow to love it here.”

“How did the music auditions pan out? You had mentioned going to a few auditions last time.”

“I was hired for two nights a week at one place, the other did not choose to pick up my contract.” The bitterness bled into his voice, but that was okay here, he was finally realizing.

“Do you have any plans for filling the rest of your time?”

“I was thinking about checking out a gym, see what classes they have. I used to box, and I may pick it up again. I was also thinking about maybe going back to school for my music education degree. I don’t know who would hire me with my background, but I like kids and I like music.”

“Maybe you could check out one of the local music stores to see if they need a piano teacher?”

“I..” That was a good idea. That sounded really good, actually. “I may do that.”

“It is worth a shot, anyway.”

“I was also thinking about maybe getting a dog. I have to check with my landlord of course. But I think we are allowed to have pets.” Blaine had always wanted a dog, but he had never been allowed one.

“A dog would be very good for you. I own two myself and there is nothing quite so calming as petting a dog. And the exercise they need will get you up and out. I know you run, but you can go socialize at a dog park.”

Blaine nodded. A dog sounded even better than teaching music. They loved you unconditionally, right? And unconditional love would be good...

“Blaine? Care to share your thoughts?”

“I...think a dog is a really good idea. Aren’t they supposed to love you unconditionally? I think I could really use that right now.”

“Is this about Kurt or your brother?”

Because he could, because he felt safe doing so here, Blaine answered after a deep breath. “Both, I think. I am pretty sure they loved me in their own ways. But...I don’t want to be second to anyone for a while, and their loyalties lay elsewhere.”

“Would you be open to talking to them again? On a more frequent basis, that is. You mentioned emailing occasionally to give them updates, but have you thought about reopening those lines of communication?”

“I don’t know that I am ready to trust them again.”

“I am not suggesting you trust them if you do not feel safe doing so. But even if it is a means of closure, take this week to think about it.”

“I can do that much.”

“Good. So same time next week?”

“Yeah. Sorry for taking so much of your time today.”

“It is no trouble. My best days are ones like these.”

“Have a good week, Scott.”

Blaine was calling his landlord before he left the building Scott’s office was in and then googling to find the nearest pet shelter.

There was a no-kill shelter no very far from Scott’s office, so Blaine went straight there. He was met at the door by a college-age girl with a nametag that proudly proclaimed “Laura: Volunteer” on it.

“Hello, sir. How can I help you today?”

“Blaine, please. I need a running buddy who doesn’t mind a small family.”

Laura smiled and led him to sign in and then through the door labeled ‘Dogs.’ “I think I can help you, Blaine. Do you want to just walk through, or do you have a particular dog in mind?” 

“I was hoping it would be love at first sight, so I guess just walking through?”

“Would you like company? I know all of the dogs here and I can help you find the one that you will fit with best.”

“That sounds good.”

“Have you been here before and has someone explained the process to you?” They had paused just inside the entrance to the hall, which smelled of dog and was lined with decently spacious kennels.

“No...”

“Don’t worry. We just want the best for our dogs. So if you have another animal we would like to supervise a visit. We also will need to come and do a quick home visit, which can be as early as later today or tomorrow to ensure that your new friend will be going to a safe home.”

Those all sounded reasonable, so Blaine nodded. “Seems fair.”

“Good. So, do you have a size preference in mind?”

“Nothing too big, since I’m not a big guy, but nothing very small.”

“And a good running partner, you said?”

“That would be ideal.”

“If you would follow me, I have a few that may work for you.”

And she did. There were five dogs, all mixes of some sort that he could see himself very happy with. At the end of the hall, near where he was hand-sanitizing his hands, a labrador caught his eye. “Doug” the name tag on his kennel read, had come from a home that didn’t love him enough. He was seven years old, loved playing fetch and running around, didn’t like loud noises or men.

But there was something about that dog. 

“Doug is a sweetheart, but he doesn’t do well with men. Maybe...?

“No. Please. I know he may not like me, and that’s fine. But I’d like to try.”

Laura nodded and Blaine stepped forward, doing all the things he had been told to do, eyes on Doug’s feet, predictable movements, and hand held out to the bars of the kennel. Cautiously, with Laura encouraging him with soft cooing sounds, Doug moved forward and sniffed Blaine’s hand thoroughly. Blaine sighed with relief, smiling widely when Doug’s tail wagged and he gave Blaine’s hand a small lick. “Good boy, good Doug.” Blaine repeated it over and over as he slowly crouched down. Doug backed away a bit, but came back when Blaine changed nothing else.

Blaine was able to scratch Doug’s chin and he wanted to cry with relief. He had never been so happy for a dog to accept him.

“Would you like to meet him in the yard?” Laura laughed when she saw his smile. “I’ll take that as a yes. I’ll paige someone to bring him out as we walk there, sound good?”

“Yes. That sounds wonderful.”

The five minutes it took for all four of them, Blaine, Laura, Doug, and Doug’s new handler, to get into the yard were far longer than they should have been.

Eventually, though, Blaine was given a few treats for his pockets, a ball to throw, and Doug was off his leash. It took Doug another few minutes for him to approach Blaine, obviously searching for the food, which Blaine gave him a piece of.  
After the treat, Doug stayed by Blaine, eying the ball. 

“Want me to throw this, Doug?” He picked the ball up and Doug’s tail wagged, faster and faster, more alert and concentrating on the ball as Blaine moved it. Blaine threw it and Doug ran, racing after it, catching it on the second bounce and bringing it back, tail up and wagging proudly. He started walking towards Laura, but she shook her head and he headed to Blaine again, dropping the ball at Blaine’s feet, obviously waiting for Blaine to throw it.

“Okay, okay. I’ll throw it again.” He did, and Doug brought it back straight to him that time.

It repeated several more times, until Doug wanted a break, drinking from the water bowl before flopping onto the ground at Blaine’s feet, belly up. “Demanding a belly rub? I thought only cats demanded things.” Doug wiggled on the ground and Blaine bent over and scratched him, kneeling when it began to strain.

“It seems I was wrong. He doesn’t generally like men. Just you.” Laura had moved next to him, kneeling and petting Doug too.

“I live alone and will be living alone for the near future, so we can work on socializing slowly. Isn’t that right, boy?”

“Am I right in thinking you want to adopt him?”

“Yes. Please.”

“Let’s put his leash back on and we’ll take care of paperwork and schedule the visit, although I can’t imagine there being a problem. You don’t have a meth lab, do you?”

“I do not. I live in a decent neighborhood. Quiet and perfect.”

“It sounds wonderful for Doug. If you two would follow me?” She handed Blaine Doug’s leash and held the gate to the yard open for them.

Twenty minutes later, registration papers in hand, Blaine was shown where the little pet store was so he could get the basics. Laura had offered to take him and Doug in her car and she would do the home visit then, since it was such a slow day. “Of course, everyone will come in right after I leave. That’s how it always works.”

Blaine nodded and paid for the dog bed, kennel, food, and pack of tennis balls. Her car was small, and they packed themselves in carefully, Doug quite content to look out the window at everyone they passed. The drive didn’t take long and parking was not as terrible as it could have been. It was only the matter of getting everything up the narrow flight of stairs (which Doug seemed distrustful of) and into Blaine’s apartment. He was thankful that he was generally a neat person, so there was only a mug out on the counter, sheet music scattered around, and clothes thrown haphazardly on his bed.

“I will just need a quick look around, and then he is all yours.” Laura looked at Blaine and he gestured for her to start. 

A few quick questions and the very short grand tour later, Laura was handing Doug’s leash over the Blaine and wishing them a good day, the door shutting quietly behind her.

“I guess it’s just you and me, Doug. I’m going to set everything up while you explore, okay?” Doug huffed at him, wandered around sniffing, ignoring Blaine as he struggled with putting the kennel together. This was supposed to be easy to assemble. The box even said so. They must have meant easy for a small army. Or an octopus. 

Thirty minutes and a lot of swearing later, the kennel had been conquered just in time for Doug to scratch at the door. “Bathroom break?” Blaine thought he could hear his knees creak as he stood up and gathered the leash. Doug danced around Blaine, settling only long enough for Blaine to hook the leash to his collar before starting again. “Am I taking too long?” 

Doug stared and Blaine before scratching at the door again. “Okay. Okay. Let me grab my keys...and we’re off.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next two days were easier than Blaine could have hoped for. Doug was easy going and they figured out their routine without much problem. After the first night (with Doug miserable in the kennel), it sat forsaken in the corner. Blaine figured that it could be useful at some point, so he didn’t disassemble it (and he didn’t want to have to deal with that). By the second day, Blaine had learned that a scratch at the door was his first warning and that Doug’s huffed breath and soft whine at him was his second. Thankfully, Blaine had forced himself off his piano bench to take Doug out after the second warning.

Doug made for the perfect running partner. They went early to avoid the growing heat and other dogs, since Blaine was not yet quite awake enough to deal with socializing with anyone when they were running. 

The third day their run was slightly shorter, so Blaine wouldn’t tire himself out too much. 

As a means of keeping himself entertained and not holed up in his apartment (which was lovely but he was going stir crazy), Blaine had decided to try a yoga class. The gym had gotten good reviews online and wasn’t too far away, and they had had a spot open in their beginning class. Before...everything he had fit in an intermediate class, but he was still feeling his injuries, so the beginning class would be better.  
After their run, Doug curled up on his bed in the corner as Blaine rinsed off in the shower and dressed in yoga-appropriate attire. A glance at the clock told him he had an hour to kill before he had to leave, so he settled on the couch with a peanut butter and banana sandwich and flipped channels, leaving it on some home shopping network and grabbing a book when the special on floral-patterned skirts was the most interesting thing on.

\-------------------------------------------------

All gyms, Blaine thought, smelled the same. Something that was related to popcorn...but not nearly so clean. And more feet. This one had that same smell, but to a lesser extent. It was bright and clean, the entry room opening up into a larger space with doors leading off to the locker rooms on the side, a wall of mirrors reflecting Blaine back at him. 

“Um. Hi. I signed up for the beginning yoga class?” 

The young guy sitting at the desk glanced up, still typing. “Name?”

“Blaine Anderson.”

The guy popped his gum twice as he looked. “We offer one trial class for free. After that you pay by the month. Would you like to use that trial class now?”

“Yes, please.”

Another pop of the gum and a few clicks of a keyboard. “You’re all set. If you need a locker, they are through those,” he nodded to the side, “doors. Your class will be starting in ten minutes in Room 2.”

“Thank you.” Blaine got the pop of gum in response and went to the locker room, eyes wandering as he went. It seemed...friendly, except for the gum-popping guy at the front desk.. There was a top-40 station playing in the background of the main gym, which had a good array of equipment, about half of which was in use. Figuring out how to work the locker was not difficult, and soon his wallet and keys were stowed, his water bottle and towel in his hand as he made his way to Room 2.

Most of the mats were already claimed by water bottles, and Blaine took one in the back corner (mostly because it was a really pretty blue). A tall, blond man was circulating the room, chatting with different groups of people for a few moments before moving on. Blaine watched his progression as he stretched a bit, his back cracking satisfactorily as he twisted.

“Make sure you don’t over-stretch cold muscles. That would be painful.” Blaine jumped slightly, the voice startling him out of his momentary distraction. 

“Oh. I’ve already gone for a run. All limbered up.” He was taller than Blaine, blond hair a bit on the floppy side, with bright blue eyes and a wide, easy smile.

“That’s good to hear. Too many people stretch too much and end up causing more harm than good. I’m Sam, by the way.” He held out his hand and Blaine grasped it, returning the firm handshake. 

“Blaine.”

“Awesome, our new student. Have you done yoga before?”

“A bit, but I had to stop for a while, so I am trying to ease myself back into it.” Blaine tried to keep the grimace off of his face. Something must have shown, because Sam’s brow creased before it smoothed back over. “I should start class, I suppose. I hope you enjoy it.”

They exchanged smiles and Sam wove his way through the mats, calling to the people he had missed greeting. He closed the door to the main studio, clicked on the sound system, greeted everyone, and started into his routine.

The class was refreshing. Part of Blaine was annoyed that he was struggling with things that he _knew_ how to do but was no longer able to. But it felt good to stretch out until it was just shy of pain and he felt loose and happy. It wasn’t the same as a runner’s high, but he felt _relaxed_. 

Sam came over and gave him a high-five as everyone was packing up. “Great job, man. Your form is awesome.”

“Thanks. I’m not as good as I used to be, but I’m getting there.”

“You just decide to take a break?”

“Um. I got...hurt and was in the hospital for a bit. Now I’m just trying to get back to where I was.”

“I’m sure you’ll get there in no time.” Sam’s smile was contagious and Blaine had to duck his head to hide his own. Sam pushed at his shoulder and Blaine started. “Whoah. Sorry, dude.”

“No. You’re fine. I just am easily startled.”

“Sorry for startling you.” He smiled again before moving away, spraying the mats down with a spray bottle and wiping them off, working around Blaine as he gathered himself. “You’re welcome to stick around for a bit. I have to put all this stuff away, but I can talk at the same time.”

“I, should, uh...I should go home. I just got a dog and he probably would like to go out.” 

“Cool. Dogs awesome. What breed?”

“Yellow lab.”

“I love labs. Boxers are my favorite though. All that energy? Trying to keep them calm keeps me running all the time.”

After a slightly awkward pause, Blaine cleared his throat. “Uh, you lead an awesome class.”

“Thanks! Am I gonna see you next week?”

“I think so, yeah.”

“Awesome. Have a good week, Blaine.”

“You too, Sam.”

Riding on the high of talking to someone who was neither one of his neighbors nor his therapist, Blaine took Doug out and then sat down in front of his computer. He made a list of all of the music stores and schools that might need a piano teacher. One in particular looked promising--they had a “we are looking for assistance in the shop, please call for information” banner on their website. Blaine picked up the phone and an appointment was set for the next day for him to come in. 

List finished, Blaine called each one, making one other appointment to come in and have an interview for the beginning of the following week. 

Satisfied with his day, Blaine put on his dancing playlist, made dinner, and finished his book as he ate. 

And if he invited Doug onto the sofa with him after the kitchen was clean, well, it was his apartment and he could do what he wanted.


	16. Part 11b

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been a really long time. My muse ran away from me. But it is here now!

The next month continued in the same surprisingly good manner. He was officially put on payroll as a part-time piano teacher and on the once a week rotation at the piano bar he had gotten the trial period week (a decision reached two weeks earlier than he had thought). Doug had settled in nicely and learning to run next to Blaine and not around him (although if there was a duck, all bets were off). He and Sam had hit it off and got together for lunch or drinks at least once a week outside of class. They had passed the tiptoeing around each other stage and now knew each other’s drink orders, celebrity crushes, and favorite superheroes.

 

It had been, in short, the best month since…everything had happened. Monday had been quiet, only his session with Scott and a few hours of lessons at the music store. One of his students, Jackie, showed real promise, if only she would apply herself a little more. His runs (even the one on Tuesday before the yoga class) were a little longer each time he went out—Blaine was pushing himself, possibly a little too much. But complacency would be worse for him in the long run in comparison to too-sore muscles at yoga. Following what has quickly become his routine, Blaine put on the radio and hummed along as he rinsed the sweat from his run off, threw yoga-appropriate attire on, and made himself a light lunch. A quick trip downstairs for a last bathroom break for Doug and he was on his way.

 

As with the past weeks, Blaine bypassed the same bored teenager who was babysitting the desk and locked his things up in a locker before heading back to the designated room. Just like the weeks before, Sam was setting up and talking with a few people as Blaine walked in. Sam caught his eye and waved, smiling and Blaine happily returned it. He didn’t know what it was about today, but he was pretty sure that if he tried he could fly on happy thoughts alone.

 

Blaine started going through his stretching routine (abbreviated) to limber up again after the break, watching Sam make his way closer out of the corner of his eye. If the past month had taught him anything, it was that his friend was almost unfairly attractive. His sleeveless shirt was tight against what appeared to be a very well built torso, the loose shorts clung to the outlines of thighs Blaine was almost envious of. And Sam’s smiles reached his eyes every time and lit up his whole face. Even if his lips sometimes looked puffy from…a certain activity, the overall look was fairly close to stunning. And Blaine would not let his brain go near the differences with another pair of blue eyes or of hair swept up instead of a well-kept mop. He would not. He could casually enjoy the sight in the meantime. After all the six months was a marker for trying again, not a promise that they would try again and maybe Kurt had found another guy in New York, someone taller and more proportionate and…

 

A hand was waving in front of his eyes and he stepped back, startled. “Hey Blainey! I hope I didn’t interrupt a life-changing thought.”

 

Blaine shook his head, trying to refocus on the now and not on the depressing train of thoughts. This was a good day, damn it. “Nah. Just trying to remember if I have another box of tea or if I just drank the last of it.”

 

“Man. I hate that. I record voice memos for myself and play them back when I have to remember things. My spelling isn’t so good and it’s just easier that way.”

 

Sam looked uncertain about that and Blaine needed to put the carefree smile back on his face. “That’s a brilliant idea. I can’t believe I never thought about it before. My handwriting gets so bad sometimes I can’t read what I wrote. I’ll have to try the voice memo thing some time.”

 

“It’s worked for a while now for me. How has your week been?” Sam copied Blaine’s stretches, stretching out his quad. 

 

“Pretty good. How has yours been?”

 

“Not, uh, not nearly as great. Hey, I should probably start class. Wouldn’t want to be fired for talking up the hot new kid, would I?” Blaine didn’t have the heart to remind him that he had been there a month and was not new anymore as Sam flashed him a smile that didn’t reach his eyes as he dropped his hold on his ankle and wove between the mats to the front of the room.

 

Gradually through the class Sam’s smile reached his eyes again and by reclining goddess pose (or corpse for those whose hips did not enjoy reclining goddess) he was smiling freely again. Blaine hung around at the end of class, helping Sam wipe the mats down and roll them up for storage.

 

“Are you going to just flash pretty smiles at me or are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”

 

Sam paused, bent over mid rolling up a mat. “Wanna go for a walk after I’m done here? Or go somewhere that…isn’t here?”

 

“Sure. Of course. I have a few beers at my place if you want to come over.”

 

“I need to finish up here and take a quick shower. You can…”

 

“I’ll wait.”

 

“You sure?”

 

“Yup. That’s what bros do.” Blaine clapped Sam’s shoulder on his way past Blaine to set the now-rolled matt with its fellows. Blaine watched the tension that had crept back into Sam’s frame ease itself out as the conversation diverted to the sports seasons.

 

Their conversation continued as they tidying the room and as Blaine followed Sam back out and, weaving through the machines, into the locker rooms. Blaine’s locker clicked open and he grabbed out things, catching up to Sam where he waited at the ‘Employees Only’ door. 

 

“I.. I can wait out here. I don’t mind.” Even though Sam knew about Blaine’s sexuality (and Blaine was comfortable with himself), even in Boston there were still some men who wouldn’t take kindly to being stuck in a bathroom with someone like him.

 

“Get your ass in here. I offered, didn’t I?” Blaine nodded and scampered after Sam, who led him through a second door labeled ‘Men.’

 

The employee’s locker room looked about the same as the one for the general public. The main differences were that it was smaller, cleaner, and lacked the lingering odor of sweat and feet. 

Sam’s locker clanged open as Blaine towards where he hoped the sinks were. Past the bank of lockers the room opened up—three shower stalls and a couple toilet stalls across from sinks with mirrors over them. Hanging his bag off a conveniently placed hook, Blaine dampened his clean towel, still discussing the possibility that Robert Downey Jr. would force the producers to pay the cast more equally while Sam gathered his things from his locker. Towel dampened, Blaine blotted, listening to Sam’s points, his voice louder as he approached. Blaine bent over to wash his face (promising himself that he would lengthen his moisturizing routine that night to make up for the hand soap). When he righted himself and dabbed at his face with his towel, his train of thought—which had been following Sam’s end of the conversation—derailed itself as his eyes glanced over his shoulder in the mirror.

 

Sam. 

 

Who was standing, back to Blaine, wiping himself off with the shirt he had been wearing, in only his jock strap, obviously foregoing the small changing area attached to the shower stall. Leaving Blaine with a marvelous view of Sam’s well-defined back muscles flexing and his bare ass, outlined by three stripes of black fabric.

 

A lull in the conversation brought Blaine back to the present—Sam must have asked his opinion about something. Blaine felt his face heat up when he realized Sam had turned around and had caught him staring.

 

“Uh. I’m sorry.”

 

“No problem, man. My ass is fantastic. I do enough focused training for that area. It sure as hell better be a damn fine ass.”

 

If Blaine had thought he couldn’t get any redder, he was wrong. There might as well have been lava on his face—Sam had turned to watch his own profile in Blaine’s mirror as he did a few body rolls that belonged on the more scandalous of night clubs. “Sam, please.”

 

“Hey. I’d totally want to do me if I was gay,” He made a show of checking himself out in the mirror. “And I did strip down knowing you were here.” He finished his speech with a hip wiggle before opening the curtain to the shower stall. “Did Doug do anything amusing this weekend?”

 

“Well, I found out he will only chase his tail if you hold it. Then he catches it and continues running in the circle.”

 

A few hours later found Sam and Blaine on Blaine’s couch eating pizza and watching the Lord of the Rings: Fellowship of the Ring, quoting at each other between bites. Doug was settled nearby, gobbling down the pieces of crust as they were tossed to him. When the movie was over and the pizza finished, Blaine turned to Sam on the couch, feet tucking under himself. “So. Wanna tell me what was wrong earlier?”

 

“Can’t we just forget about it?” Blaine watched as Sam refused to look at him.

 

“No.”

 

“Are you going to sit on me?” 

 

“If you don’t talk to me.” This got a hint of a smile.

 

“It’s less of a threat coming from you than it is coming from me.”

 

Blaine waved his hand dismissively. “Technicality. Tell me what’s up.”

 

“It’s stupid.”

 

“Doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. And I can tell it is.”

 

“Okay. Just. Don’t judge me for it?” Sam caught his eye this time and Blaine made sure to hold his gaze.

 

“Did you kick a puppy or a small child?” 

 

Sam looked confused. “No.”

 

“Then I won’t judge you.”

 

Sam nodded and breathed deeply a few times. “It’s my sister’s birthday in a few weeks and I won’t be able to afford a ticket home.” Blaine half-crawled across the couch and hugged him, staying silent and letting Sam talk himself out. “I knew that it probably wasn’t gonna happen. But I took on extra hours everywhere I work and didn’t eat out and I haven’t been home in a while. For a week or so I thought it could happen. But the numbers just don’t work, not if I want to pay my rent on time next month.” 

 

Blaine tightened his arms as Sam deflated. “I’m sorry.”

 

Sam buried his face in the crook of Blaine’s neck, breath hitching. Blaine didn’t point out the wetness he could feel on the collar of his shirt, just held his friend until his breathing was steady and he was pulling back. Blaine looked away as Sam wiped his eyes with the edge of his shirt. “Sorry for that.”

 

“Hey, no. You’re fine. Keep apologizing and I will have to sit on you.”

 

“Am I starting to sound like you?” Sam grinned at Blaine.

 

Blaine whacked the side of Sam’s head and then found his wrists caught in one of Sam’s hands, the other tickling up and down his sides. “Hey. H-hey. Stop. Can’t. B-breathe.”

 

“But you’re so easy to tickle.”

 

“P-please. I-I won’t threaten-n it a-again.” His voice went up embarrassingly high on the last word, but Sam let him wiggle free, laughing too hard at Blaine’s voice. “Fine. Be mean to me. I’m getting another beer.” He capped it off with an overly dramatic pout that had Sam laughing even harder (and which broke into a smile as soon as Blaine had turned to go into the kitchen).

 

He returned with another beer for both of them and switched out the dvds, putting in Two Towers before settling back down. And, halfway through the movie, when Merry and Pippin have to split up, Blaine forced himself not to read too much into it when he and Sam scoot closer to each other. 

 

________________________________________

 

Blaine, still riding the high of yet another week going supremely well, decided he wanted to go out that Saturday night. He wanted to drink, he wanted to dance, he wanted to force the high to continue in a legal manner. And he wanted to not stay at home checking his email. Because early Friday morning, right after his morning run, he had emailed Kurt. An email that contained more than just the barest details. One that invited an actual conversation in return. It had been twenty-four hours with no response, and Blaine wanted to stifle the growing gnawing, twisting sensation in his stomach any time he passed his laptop. He knew what Scott would tell him, that he should examine the source of this unease and his motivations for sending the email. He also knew the answers to those questions, but admitting that he did, thinking about them? He didn’t want to.

 

So, he had made the decision to distract himself. And Sam, still upset about not being able to make it home for his sister’s birthday, agreed to go with him (Blaine might have said that it was his treat, since Sam had shot down Blaine’s attempts to buy him tickets home). 

 

Blaine dressed for the occasion, his first night on the town since he had gone dancing with Kurt (he tamped down on the compulsion to check his email again. He didn’t want to taint the night with anything.) His dress shirt was a deep maroon, sleeves rolled to his elbows and the top few buttons undone to show his undershirt, unconventional with black and white stripes, his jeans were very dark and very tight, cuffed to show his coordinating maroon socks. After running his hand through his hair (with just enough product to keep the curl slightly tamed and done to look like he spent no time on it, though it had taken almost as long as choosing his outfit), he texted Sam that he was on his way over, pocketed his phone and wallet, grabbed his keys, and went to meet Sam.

 

They hit the most populated area of the city and hopped from bar to bar until they came across a club they liked the look of. It looked like every other bar/club that Blaine had ever been too, and that was kinda comforting. He bought himself and Sam drinks at the bar, downed his, then, with Sam’s promise that he would rescue Blaine if anything went south, Blaine waded onto the dance floor. 

 

The heavy beat of the bass thrummed through his body, and Blaine let go. He didn’t worry about impressing anyone. He let the music take him away, drown all of his thoughts, leaving only the steady bass. He must not have been dancing too poorly—hands grasped at his hips, tugging him back. He moved with the stranger’s hands, grinding his hips around in time with those of the man behind him, eyes drifting shut, blinking lazily into the flashing lights above him, mouth falling open as he breathed. His arms drifted up and back, around the neck of his partner. When lips grazed his neck he jerked forward, eyes flying open. When a hand at his chin tried to turn his head he stepped away completely. Pausing in the middle of the mass of writhing bodies, he managed to catch Sam’s eye and flashed him a thumbs-up. He started dancing again, alone and comfortably surrounded by the mass. 

 

After his next partner, a short woman who had no problem leading, Blaine waded out of the crowd to Sam and his seat at the bar, waving the bartender over and ordering two shots. “Come dance.”

 

“I don’t..” He refused the shot Blaine offered him. Blaine, dimly aware that he was going to regret this, since he had always been a lightweight, shrugged the awareness away and did both their shots, shuddering.

 

“You love dancing. I know you do. So pick your ass up off that bar stool and dance.” He grabbed Sam’s hand (warm callused big real real there so real) and pulled him out to dance. Blaine could feel, since Sam didn’t drop his hand (stomach swooping alcohol or more?) that Sam had followed him. Blaine pulled away when they were at the middle of the crowd, spinning himself away, and, the world fuzzy at the edges and everything soft and warm he was so happy. A loose circle formed around Blaine, dancing around him, each trying to pull him closer. The attention was nice and he let it happen, changing dance partners as he was pulled around the circle. A circle that grew smaller. Until he was sandwiched between two guys, taller and bigger and pushy and touching…hips, waist, a foreign hand sliding up his chest and tilting his head up. Heart thudding too fast, this was not what he wanted, he pushed away, only to hit the chest of the guy behind him. He couldn’t force his mouth to work, to call for Sam, for anyone.

 

A familiar hand grabbed his wrist and pulled him away. Sam. “Do you want to go or dance a little more?”

 

“Dance with me?” 

 

Sam responded turning Blaine so they faced each other. Blaine’s coordination was all but gone and he felt like he could only flop around. Sam’s body rolls were also incredibly funny. And sexy. And Sam had saved him.

 

And then Blaine had closed the distance between them, yanked Sam down by his shirt, and kissed him. The lack of response from Sam didn’t register, and then it did.

 

And Blaine wanted to scream.

 

Instead, he did the one thing he could do, the one thing he had gotten so good at doing since the day he found out Kurt had lied to him. He ran.

 

The air outside felt cold, painful stabs against his face as he tried to focus on where he was going through the haze of alcohol. Unable to remember the exact path, Blaine decided that anywhere was better than having to deal with what he had just done. Choosing left, Blaine turned and headed that direction, arms wrapped around himself in a desperate attempt to keep himself from flying apart at the seams.

 

A hand touched his shoulder, a voice said his name—he hadn’t noticed the footsteps, too wrapped up in not falling on his face—and he jumped. 

 

“Let’s get you home, okay Blaine?” Sam’s voice was calm, and home sounded like a really good idea. Only slightly less so than throwing up. The thought brought up a gag and then Sam herded him to the side, holding him so he didn’t fall into his own sick. The taste in his mouth was acrid and his head hurt and he had just fucking kissed his straight friend His only friend. Blaine didn’t bother to fight the darkness as it swallowed him up.

 

He was only dimly aware of parts of the walk home, Sam digging Blaine’s key out of his pocket, being set on something hard and cold and retching some more, drinking something blissfully cool. He was asleep before Sam had helped him into his bed.

 

____________________-

Even before he opened his eyes, Blaine knew he was in trouble. He didn’t remember getting home. He remembered dancing and drinking (his stomach gave an awful churn) and fuck. Blaine really hoped that part was a dream.

 

Tentatively, Blaine opened one eye and then the other with a grimace. His head felt like someone had played whack-a-mole on it despite the room being dark and his mouth felt like something had died in it. Forcing himself almost upright and bracing himself at another wave of nausea, Blaine grabbed the two pills on the bedside table and chugged half of the glass of water that had been left there. When his stomach didn’t insist that it rid itself of the new contents, Blaine attempted sitting fully upright.

 

Since sitting had worked, Blaine tried standing, holding onto the bed until his the room stopped swimming. Clad in sweats that he didn’t remember putting on, Blaine made his slow way into the bathroom, relieving his aching bladder and washing his hands without bothering to turn on the light. Hand grazing the wall for balance, Blaine found the hallway and living room blissfully dark. Frowning at the couch (making his head throb a little more), which had folded blankets and a pillow on it, he registered the sounds of someone in his kitchen. Doug’s nails clicked on the floor as he walked in, sending little spikes of pain into his head. With the arm of the couch as a balance, Blaine bent over to greet him, swallowing around the swoop in his stomach. If Doug wasn’t concerned about the visitor in his house, Blaine probably did not need to be. It wasn’t as though he could really defend himself at the moment, unless throwing up on the intruder counted. 

 

“Doug, did Blaine finally wake up?” Sam walked out of the kitchen, drying his hands on a towel. “Hey! Welcome to the land of the living.”

 

“Not living. Zombie.” Blaine’s voice wasn’t really up to par yet, so it came out as a croak.

 

“No kidding. Warn me if you start craving brains or something so I can get a head start.” Blaine could only nod. “Want to try some food?” Blaine nodded again and followed Sam and Doug back into the kitchen, collapsing at the table. Nothing on the plate Sam slid in front of him smells appetizing, so Blaine focused on the cup of coffee. The first sip was okay, and by the third he thought he felt well enough to try the food again. 

 

“Thanks, Sam.”

 

“No problem. I do need to ask, what exactly do you remember from last night?”

 

“Uh. We went to the club. I drank and danced. You...” He wracked his brain for what happened next. He knew something did. “You pulled some guy off of me. And...” 

 

The memory was fuzzy, but he thought he remembered fabric under his hands and lips on his own. He dropped his head onto the table with a thunk. “Fuck.” Blaine didn’t know what to do with himself, didn’t know why Sam got him home and made him breakfast and still talked to him. He could feel heat flush his face and tears pricking at his eyes. Why did he have to ruin everything. “I.. Fuck. I’m sorry, Sam. If you wanna leave now I won’t stop you. I. Fuck. I’m sorry. I know you’re not.”

 

“Blaine. Blaine.” He dragged his eyes up to meet Sam’s. “It’s cool, dude. You were drunk and it happens. I’m not saying it was the best kiss I have ever had. But no harm, no foul. Okay?”

 

Blaine nodded, head slumping down at the motion. This was too much to deal with hungover. 

 

“I promise Blaine, nothing’s gonna change between us.” Sam’s hand was warm on his arm then in his hair, ruffling the curls. “Finish up your breakfast while I clean up.” 

 

“You don’t have to. I can clean up. Sam, you’ve done so much already.”

 

“Eat, Blaine. Then shower off the zombie. And you can do this all for me when I’m drunk, deal?” Sam’s smile made Blaine’s heart a little lighter and he saved the feeling for later, picking up his fork again. He was polishing off his bacon as Sam set the last dish in the rack to dry and Blaine allowed himself to be ushered back into his bathroom to shower. 

 

Sam’s response to Blaine assurances that he was fine was “Yeah, but think about how much you’ll have to take care of me the next time I get myself shitfaced.” Blaine couldn’t argue with that logic.

 

The world froze and then tilted on its axis: his phone had beeped, notifying him that an email had come through.

 

His reasons for going out in the first place, what he had been trying so desperately not to think about came racing back to him. Kurt. Because Blaine was sure that he still loved Kurt and that he would always feel that way. He was just afraid that something might happen again and Kurt would break his trust and shatter Blaine. And Blaine would let him. And that scared Blaine.

 

“Yo. Blaine. Blaine.” Sam was waving a hand in front of Blaine’s face. Blaine could only blink dumbly at him, head still spinning. “Ookay. Let’s sit. That’s it. Wanna tell me what set you off?”

 

After a few deep breaths Blaine tried to speak again. “Kurt.”

 

“Okay. What about him, Blaine?”

It all came out in a rush--the lack of communication, the good month, the advice from both of his therapists and finally the email he had sent.

 

Sam didn’t speak after Blaine had finished, just pulled him close and hugged him. Blaine pulled away once his breathing was back to normal. “So. You’re gonna go shower, then we’re gonna brave the big, bright world and go for a walk with Doug and talk this all through, okay?” Blaine nodded and stood up. “Hey, Blaine?” Blaine met Sam’s eyes. “We’re gonna figure this out, okay?”

 

His ‘okay’ was small, but Sam didn’t seem to mind.

 

The shower felt like heaven on earth, the hot water beating on his back and loosening tension that he didn’t know he had.

 

Blaine felt slightly closer to functioning as he toweled himself off and brushed his teeth. Towel securely wrapped around his hips, Blaine ventured into the bedroom, which Sam had kindly vacated. 

 

He dragged clothes on, trying and failing to ignore his phone and that damn green light, blinking at him, taunting him. He was starting to feel like Gatsby. It was probably best that he just get it over with, right? He reached over to unplug his phone from the wall, pausing at the knock at the door. “Yeah?”

 

The door creaked open and Sam poked his head in. “Do you--do you want me to sit with you when you read it?”

 

“It might not even be him?” He ran his finger over the unlock button, not pressing hard enough to light the screen up.

 

Sam didn’t respond, just rubbed Blaine’s knee and averting his eyes as Blaine swiped his finger to unlock the screen. 

 

_One Unread Email_

 

_To: b_anderson@gmail.com_   
_From: khummel@gmail.com_

_Subject: RE: So, it’s been a while._

 

_Blaine,_

 

_I want to start off with I miss you. Not to put any pressure on you or anything. But just to state it. I miss you._

 

_I’m glad to hear that you are doing so well in Boston. It doesn’t surprise me that you would like it there. It wouldn’t surprise me if you liked it better than NYC. I can see you as an amazing piano teacher. If you haven’t been there already, you should go to Trident-it’s a cafe on Newberry by Massachusetts Ave. It’s one of my favorites when I’m there._

 

_For me, life has been relatively boring. I’m in DC for the time being, working for the Smithsonian in the art restoration department. I’ve...asked for retirement from field work, and it was granted. But they decided they did not want me in a job where there were interns who would be tormented. I couldn’t imagine why they would say that..._

 

_I know it is earlier than our six month agreement, but I am going to be in Boston at the end of next week and I would love to have dinner or coffee with you. Let me know if you are free!_

 

_Love (always),_

_Kurt_

 

Blaine passed his phone to Sam and let himself fall backwards onto the bed. He focused on his breathing. Because thinking about what his emotions were doing was way too confusing.

 

“Up. Up. We’re going to get coffee and walk. Therapy is outside and you can pay me in coffee.”

 

He put on the shoes and socks Sam had tossed to his feet, pocketed his phone, and followed Sam out to the living room where Doug was waiting for them, looking expectantly between them and the door. 

 

It was a beautiful day outside. And, deep down, Blaine recognized that noticing the weather was generally a good sign. 

 

His brain was just too jumbled to appreciate it.

 

Sam had given Blaine the leash to “give Blaine something to do”. They walked, got coffee, walked some more.

 

Eventually, Sam pulled him onto a bench in a deserted area of a park. “Now, pick a place, any place, and start. You don’t have to tell me everything if you don’t want to. But just talk.”

 

Thankfully, just talking was something Blaine could do. Each time he told the story it got a little easier to do. This time his heart clenched and his eyes misted, but he was...okay. It still hurt. It was probably always going to hurt. But he did not feel like he was going to spiral downward. 

 

“Wow, man. Just. Wow. I’m gonna hug you now.” And Sam did, then pulled back and wiped his own eyes. “Okay. Do you love Kurt?”

 

“Yes.” Without a doubt, until his heart stutters out its last beat, possibly after.

 

“Do you want to see him?”

 

“What if something has changed?”

 

“One question at a time. Do you want to see him?”

 

“Y-yes. But what if something has changed and he doesn’t love me?”

 

“Then you move on and find the guy who does love you. But I think Kurt might be that guy.”

 

“Don’t say that, please. You’ll jinx it.”

 

“What is your biggest fear about seeing him?”

 

Blaine didn’t let himself have the time to overthink his answer. “Um. That things have changed? And a bit that things haven’t changed at all.”

 

“What sorts of things?”

 

“Everything. Mostly, I guess, I’m afraid that I have forgiven him. I don’t want to be hurt that badly again.”

 

“But that’s the thing with any relationship. You trust them to not break your heart. But we’re human, so shit happens and hearts get broken. Now, knowing what you do and how things turn out, would you do it all again?”

 

Blaine took his time thinking even though he knew what he was going to say. “Yes. I would.”

 

“Well, that answers the question, then.”

 

“I...I guess it does.” Blaine leaned into the long arm wrapped around his shoulders, scratching behind Doug’s ears when the dog used Blaine’s knee as a chin rest.

 

______________________________

 

_Saturday, September 14_

 

_To: khummel@gmail.com_

_From: b_anderson@gmail.com_

_Subject: RE: It’s been a while_

_Dear Kurt,_

 

_I’m sorry to hear that your job is boring. Maybe think of it as a welcome break? Restoration sounds like it is right up your alley, I’m glad they found a job for you that you like. Now that you live in DC, do you spend your free time walking around looking at the sights? The monuments at night are my favorite. If you have time, you should check out when the Marine Corps Band does its free concerts._

 

_I’d really like to see you. I was thinking coffee at Triton? Let me know when you are free._

 

_I really miss you too._

 

_Love always,_   
_Blaine_

 

______________________________________

 

It was Thursday night and Blaine was just finishing up his break between sets, leaning against the bar sipping his water. The bartender was one of Sam’s friends and they got to bond over action movies between customers. Rory nodded at the group that walked in. Blaine glanced over and almost choked on his water. Familiar chestnut hair, gracefully swept up. Eyes a shade of blue he never would forget met his own and he forgot how to breathe.

 

“Kurt.” The name came unbidden to his lips, exhaled like a long remembered prayer. 

 

Blaine couldn’t hear Kurt’s response but could read his lips, memory telling him how his name sounded on Kurt’s lips. Unable to move, Blaine watched Kurt excuse himself from his group and walk around the bar to stand in front of Blaine.

 

“I didn’t expect--”

 

“I didn’t know--”

 

They both stopped, Blaine looked down and felt his face flush hot. Kurt’s hand brushed his and he met Kurt’s eyes. “I didn’t know you worked here.”

 

“I..uh..yeah. This and one other club.”

 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I would have suggested a different place.”

 

“No, Kurt.” Kurt’s hand felt warm and big and the contact made him ache as he covered it with his hand, neither saying anything when their hands shook. “I don’t mind that you’re here. It’s...it’s really good to see you.”

 

“It’s good to see you too.” 

 

Over Kurt’s shoulder, Blaine could see the manager waving him over. “I..uh..I have to go finish my set. D-do you want to go get something to eat or a coffee after this, I know a diner we can go to? Or we can just wait until we were going to meet on Saturday if you are busy or have an early day tomorrow?”

 

“I’ll be free after this. I’ll be waiting for you here.”

 

“Okay. Okay. I’m just gonna...”

 

“Break a leg, Blaine.” Blaine was really happy that Kurt seemed just as nervous as he felt, their matching smiles shaking as Blaine pulled himself off the barstool and walked back over to the piano. 

 

Despite knowing that Kurt was in the audience, Blaine did not find himself forgetting the words or the notes or how to play the piano (which had been his primary concern). He finished his set without incident and walked away from the piano to light applause. His heart skipped a beat when he scanned the bar for Kurt and found him, sitting next to an open chair, two glasses next to him. Even almost six months after everything, Blaine’s heart flew at Kurt’s smile. It was almost as if nothing had happened. Blaine was finishing his set, Kurt had his seat and his drink, they would go back to one of their apartments and...

 

Except it wasn’t eight months ago.

 

It was now.

 

And, in the few seconds it took to weave his way to Kurt, Blaine decided that he was 95% sure that he wanted this and 100% nervous. After all, Kurt had broken his heart once already. 

 

“You were amazing, Blaine. Not that you weren’t before.”

 

“Kurt?” Kurt looked up, biting his lip and looking so scared and they really needed to talk but Blaine was too tired right now to have serious, life-altering conversations. “It’s me and you. We were never this...awkward. Could we, just for tonight, pretend that everything is okay and that we’re just friends getting coffee? I..I know we need to talk about...everything. But would it be okay if we didn’t do that tonight?”

 

“Yes, yes. Of course.” Kurt’s voice was high and nervous and Blaine’s heart hurt because this wasn’t them and talking would make everything better. But he just couldn’t deal with that right now. He wanted his illusion that things might work out. Just for that night. 

 

Blaine sat down on the seat Kurt had saved and sipped from the drink Kurt had gotten him. It was his normal order. “You remembered my order?”

 

“Of course.” Blaine liked that Kurt seemed offended that Blaine had asked.

 

“When did you get in? How was your flight?”

 

“Train, actually. And a few hours ago. I dropped my bags off at the hotel and had a meeting with some people from the museum here. Then some of the restorers decided to go out for drinks and invited me to join them. When they said that there was going to be live music it didn’t cross my mind that it would be you. I’m so sorry...”

 

“Kurt. Stop. I’m glad you came and that I got to see you.” His drink finished, Blaine made to stand up. “I’m going to go get my stuff, wait here for me?” He waited for Kurt’s nod before leaving, returning quickly. “Still up for watery coffee and diner food? My favorite place to go after gigs isn’t far away.” Kurt nodded and followed Blaine’s lead through the bar. 

 

The diner was two blocks away. Two blocks filled with a silence verging on awkward. But if Blaine knew Kurt, and he thought he did, Kurt would need more time to get his feet back under him and process whatever he was currently feeling--he had never been good at surprises. By the time Blaine was holding open the door to the diner for him Kurt’s head was up and their fingers had been brushing, close to tangling together for the past fifty steps. 

 

As they were seated in a booth with cracked vinyl seats, Blaine spoke before Kurt could, grabbing his hand where it rested on his half of the table. “Don’t apologize. You needed to process. We didn’t expect to see each other and it has been a while.” 

 

Kurt nodded and stroked his thumb over Blaine’s hand, not pulling back until the waiter came to take their orders. 

 

“You look really good, Blaine. Really...happy.”

 

“You look tired.” Kurt cracked a smile at that. “Long week?”

 

“Long month, but this week in particular has been bad.”

 

“What happened?” 

 

It was silent except for the clinking of their spoons against their coffee cups. “I don’t mind telling you the details. But it...it kinda will probably have to deal with us. And you said that you didn’t want to talk about us tonight.”

 

“Tell me one thing. Is it good news or bad news?”

 

“Good news. Definitely good news.” Blaine’s stomach, which had decided to crawl around, settled at the pronouncement.

 

“Okay. So tell me on Saturday. Um. Have you seen any good movies recently?”

 

Kurt cocked his eyebrow as if to say ‘Really, Blaine?’ but he answered anyway. 

 

The ice seemingly broken, their conversation only paused to thank the waiter for bringing their food (a slice of cheesecake for Kurt and a turkey wrap for Blaine). When their coffees had been refilled twice, Blaine finally looked down at his watch. “It’s late. You probably have things to do tomorrow.”

 

“I do, sadly.” 

 

They both reached for the check, Blaine snatching it away just before Kurt took it. “Ha! I asked you tonight, I am paying.”

 

“Only if I pay on Saturday.” Kurt’s smile made Blaine smile and they needed to go slow, he wanted to go slow, but he had missed Kurt so much, all he wanted to do was kiss him. Blaine blinked and forced himself under control. It was just the adrenaline of a evening that went well when it should have crashed and burned.

 

“I will agree to those terms.” Leaving a decent tip for the poor waiter, Blaine waited for Kurt to pay and held the door as they left. As their conversation picked back up, it took everything in his power to not reach for Kurt’s hand or link their arms. After their conversation Saturday, maybe he would allow himself to. But for now, as he followed Kurt into a cab and blushed through Kurt’s kiss on his cheek outside his apartment, Blaine was happy with what he had. Scared for what might happen for the future? Petrified that he would let Kurt in and he would end up shattered, possibly irreparably so? Yes. For the moment, however, Blaine was happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews make me try to write faster (and tie down my muse and feed him blackberries).


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